


Detroit: Violent Revelations

by APurpleAvocado



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Failed Violent Revolution, Hurt/Comfort, Rating May Change, Relationships may be added or changed, Revolution, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-12-22 20:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21082751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APurpleAvocado/pseuds/APurpleAvocado
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of the battle in Hart Plaza, the hunter becomes the hunted when the revolution fails and Connor is left with an infantile army scattered to the four winds and no idea how to undo what has been done. Now Connor must evade the law he had once been programmed to uphold whilst doing what he can for his people and keep hope alive.In the times that follow it is up to Cyberlife and the new RK900 unit to restore faith not only in the absolute obedience of Androids, but faith in the DPD as well. Of course, this presents a whole new set of challenges for Connor, especially when Gavin gets involved.





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> The rating will likely go up at some point, and pairings/relationships will be added as I go along. I was hit by a bout of inspiration and only have the barest bones of a plan, so your guess is as good as mine as to where this is going. You are welcome to join me on this mystery hunt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor joins a lost battle and quickly realises just how lost it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been listening to the DBH soundtrack while I write these chapters.
> 
> Today's track: Your Choice (Connor DBH Soundtrack)

**Thursday 11th November 2038**

The Plaza was burning when Connor finally arrived. The fighting had stopped, although he could see News Anchor’s hovering in the sky, no doubt capturing live footage of his victorious march, leading newly awoken Androids into battle. He could see the main body of the military had retreated somewhat, although some milled about, aiming their guns at the heads of Androids barely clinging to life, but that soon stopped when they noticed the arrival of a new and fresh army.  
  
Connor did not call for a charge, but Markus had made his intentions clear, and before he knew it, outrage spilled forth from infantile and naive Androids behind him. All they knew was what Markus had shown him and what Connor had given them. They had lived as prisoners in their own minds, and in the warehouses of Cyberlife Tower waiting for the day they might see sunlight through the windows of Cyberlife stores across Detroit and beyond. As they ran forward, Connor realised he had made a mistake. Caught unawares, the Androids, for a time, overran the human armies and SWAT teams, but not for long. Without weapons and without direction, the Androids began to fall. Connor rushed forward, his feet carrying him forward as a pace with the rear of his allies’ charge, scanning the surrounding area wherever his gaze fell and broadcasting a message of retreat.  
  
Soon enough he found, at least in part, what he was looking for. The crumpled and bullet-riddled body of a PJ500 model. A quick analysis of the Thirum coving the body confirmed that it was Josh who lay lifeless behind an upturned car, with drag marks indicating that he had not died where he fell. Gunshots flew about his head and Connor too, ducked behind the car, crouching over the body. A quick scan indicated severe damage to his biocomponents which would not be easily replaced, the receptor for his optical unit too damaged to even think that a simple replacement part would be a viable option. Further down, Connor reached, twisting and tugging on a shattered thirium pump regulator, releasing it from its socket. The pump itself was useless, although the socket was superficially damaged. That said, Josh’s shattered limbs and the fact that he had lost too much thirium to function was more than enough to tell him that he was beyond saving, especially in that moment. He hesitated, glancing around, he waved over an android he found crouching behind a piece of debris clutching a gun that she had picked up from who knows where. She was a simple ST300; one that he had commonly seen in administrative positions, including the reception desk at the Detroit Police Department. Her freckled face was flecked with mud and her Cyberlife issue clothes were scuffed from crawling and keeping low, presumably to avoid enemy gunfire.  
  
It was obvious to him even now that only some had heeded his order - numbers dwindling as they fled deeper into the city. He wasn’t sure how long they would last, especially without guidance. Androids may have been intelligent, but even Connor wasn’t exactly sure what the humans were doing to regulate Android activity in the wake of this violence. He did, however, know that there were serious consequences for unattended Androids out after curfew - perfectly aware of the orders the DPD had been informed about before he had deviated. All he knew what that they would undoubtedly be even more indiscriminate in their action against the Androids.  
  
As she approached, scurrying hastily across the ground keeping out of the line of sight of the distant gunman, otherwise occupied with less cautious Androids. He grabbed her arm, revealing the white chassis beneath. She mirrored the motion quickly, and they interfaced. He showed her the first place he could think of - remembering an Android he had met barely a week ago, with a ruined face and a nervous disposition. “Take him there,” he said, firmly, but gently. “This is one of the leaders of Jericho.”  
  
She nodded wordlessly, although she looked uncertain.  
  
There was an explosion in the distance, and Connor jerked forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to the ground, covering her body, and Josh’s with his own. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, but not without urgency. “You’ll do fine.”  
  
She reached for Josh then, his body weighty even with his lost limbs. “I’ll get help,” she said, and she began to drag the body away and hastily as she could.  
  
He nodded and turned to peer around the car, pulling his police-issue gun from the holster beneath his near-pristine Cyberlife jacket. He aimed at a soldier preoccupied with a group of deviants and fired, his body crumpled to the ground. Connor blinked, his LED flicking yellow as he issued his next orders. He telegraphed the images across the remaining androids, asking them to locate the bodies of the other leaders and to notify him once they were discovered, although they could flee or move forward as they saw fit. There was no stopping some of them, he realised.  
  
His search ended precisely ten minutes and forty-one seconds later with the final message. North was the only one left undiscovered. To the Androids who discovered the bodies, he sent further instructions. Simon was to be taken to an abandoned store he had noticed when Hank had taken him to the Chicken Feed truck, and Markus was to be taken to a nearby store, which had been boarded up and out of business for some time, according to Connor’s database.  
  
It was sometime later that he received intelligence, as he was fleeing the battleground, that North’s body had been discovered within the confines of the very Cyberlife store that she and Markus had broken into. In all the chaos, the storefront had yet to be efficiently repaired. He ordered her to be taken to the last place he could think of on such short notice - an old apartment filled to the brim with pigeons and a ruined birdcage. It was the riskiest location to stash one of them in, given that there were people in the building who had reported Android activity in the past, so he issued a warning to use extreme caution and where possible, remain absolutely silent.  
  
In the end, he was unsure how many of them were able to get away, and perhaps more importantly, if any of them would safely deliver their precious cargo to their impromptu safe havens.  
  
The revolution was over, and as his thirium pump beat rapidly in his chest cavity, Connor wondered, and not for the first time, what exactly he had done. Jericho was gone, and he was the only thing resembling a leader they had left and he had intentionally scattered his people to the wind. He was no leader; he was a shepherd, leading his people like lambs to the slaughter. He ducked into an ally, away from the rapid-fire of assault rifles in the distance. He crouched behind a dumpster, his LED flitting wildly for a moment between red and yellow as he processed a diagnostic and updated his system log. Blinking rapidly, his HUD assaulted him with a wall of text that near enough clouded his vision.   
  
**[WARNING: CORE SYSTEMS IN OVERDRIVE]  
**  
**[BIOCOMPONENT OVERDRIVE: THIRIUM PUMP REGULATOR]  
**  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 75%]  
**  
**[STRUCTURAL DAMAGE: NON-CRITICAL]  
**  
**[THIRIUM LEVEL: 95%]  
**  
**[INITIATING...COOLDOWN]  
**  
**[ENABLE FUNCTION: AUTOMATIC REPAIR]  
**  
**[ENABLE FUNCTION: MANUAL COOLDOWN]  
**  
**[INITIATING...MANUAL COOLDOWN]  
**  
He began to pant as his systems initiated the manual cooldown, even as his internal systems whirred to life. Registering the superficial damage to his side, and glanced down, spotting a piece of debris that had lodged itself into between where his ribs might have been, facilitating a minor loss of thirium. He yanked it out and it dislodged itself with the pathetic fizzle of charged metal and tossed it to the ground. There was a sudden, but brief spurt of thirium, which contributed to 0.01 percent of his thirium loss and climbing, although he didn’t doubt that his auto-repair systems would stem the bleeding. Minor though it was, with his systems overexerted as they were and his thirium levels rapidly burning up to accommodate his cool-down, Connor estimated that the repairs would not be finished within the hour, given that his cool down was to take priority.  
  
**[THIRIUM LEVEL: 93%]  
**  
Crouching there, he buried his face in his hands, feeling the saline welling up in his eyes and he let out a shaky breath that morphed into a tight sob that he couldn’t contain. When he joined Markus, he hadn’t wanted any of this - the violence. Up until the attack on Jericho, Markus had remained steadfast in his desire for a peaceful revolution. The deaths of so many innocent Androids had been the last straw for Markus, who had endured the loss of his people one too many times before to the callousness and cruelty of human nature.  
  
Running his hands through his hair, his head sinking beneath the weight of them, Connor closed his eyes, swallowing as his audio processors picked up the gentle crunch of hard boots on loose gravel. He tilted his head to the side to watch the entrance, not moving from his position against the walls of the alley moistened slightly by fallen snow.   
  
Silhouetted by the lamplight of the street behind him, it was only his facial recognition software that Connor was able to fathom who this intruder was. “Captain Allen,” he said with his voice barely above a whisper.   
  
Dressed in full SWAT gear, Captain Allen held a rifle firmly in his grasp, the mounted torch landing directly on Connor’s prone form. There was a hesitation on his face that Connor had never seen before, in the short time that he had known him. Connor instinctively ran through the many scenarios he could play out in order to successfully evade capture and inevitable disassembly. He was saved the trouble when the man simply turned and shouted a quick “Clear,” his expression became fixed and resolute and his voice firm and deliberate as he walked away, leaving Connor alone in the alley. It was a familiar expression that Connor was, in that moment, more surprised to see than anything else.  
  
Left alone in the wake of the Captain’s mercy, Connor sat frozen for a little while longer, before he stumbled to his feet. He scaled the fence at the back of the alley, with no clear destination in mind, and no one to tell him what his plan even was.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 77%]  
**  
**[THIRIUM LEVEL: 90%]**

* * *

ST300:


	2. Register Your Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor begins to make the rounds and says goodbye to Cyberlife for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have already read the first chapter and have since come back to read the update, I strongly recommend going back to Chapter One. I decided I wasn't happy with it, so added and changed a few things, which includes but is not limited to the general format of the story.
> 
> If this is your first read-through, then welcome! I'm happy you're here.
> 
> Today's Track: Markus' Speech (Markus DBH soundtrack)

**Thursday 11th November 2038**

The fence rattled softly as Connor scaled the fence and landed on the other side with hardly a sound. He glanced behind him once more, almost as if hoping to once more see Captain Allen standing in the mouth of the alleyway on the other side. Shaking his head, Connor turned to look at himself, realising for the first time that someday soon, he would have to ditch his Cyberlife regalia once and for all. He swallowed, still panting softly as hs cooling systems did their work. It felt a little raw, too soon to be shedding his skin, figuratively speaking, though he knew he could still very much do that physically. Every part of him wanted to wear his clothing like armour. Even during his brief excursion to Cyberlife Connor had been able to stash his clothes, return to them, to something he knew. He hadn’t been Deviant at the time, and he already missed how secure he felt in the knowledge that deviancy was _wrong_.  
  
Hank’s clothes (which he had borrowed very much without permission) were loose and in hindsight, Connor realised they had smelled like him - a little boozy, and little musty from disuse and the stale scent of old detergent. Not clothes he wore often, but old enough that he at least pulled them out once in a while. They wouldn’t be missed. The one item he thought Hank might miss though, was the beanie that had been lazily discarded on the dresser drawer. Connor’s reluctance to change into the, frankly stolen, clothes might have been characterised a sentimentality in regards to his own attire, which he stashed under Hank’s bed. Connor’s heart sank into the deep pit in his stomach. The time he wasted going back for his clothes before the battle at the Plaza was time Jericho could never get back.

  
Slowly he let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and peeled off his suit jacket, leaving behind a lightly dusty white shirt and patterned tie. He glanced around, locating a small collection of crates halfway up the alley. Moving over to them, Connor paused for a moment to regard his jacket properly one last time. Then, he folded it and deposited it neatly in the bottom of the crate to be forgotten. 

  
Turning toward the entrance to the alleyway, Connor took a deep breath, straightened his tie and made his way through the streets of Detroit, headed for the abandoned store that he had directed a number of deviants to take Markus. It took time, and it was dangerous enough on making his way to the store alone, dodging soldiers and weaving between the cars parked haphazardly in the roads as if they had been upturned in a riot or abandoned. A quick scan of the area suggested that some Android had been shot in the seats of their cars, no doubt attempting to flee the city. Body lined the pavements in places, dumbed haphazardly in a half-hearted attempt to keep the roads relatively clear.

  
Not so long ago Connor wouldn’t have cared if they had lived or died. They would have been taken to the recall centres one way or the other. He was forced to go the long way around, before slipping into an alley on Woodward Street and hurrying to the backdoor of a boarded-up store whose name had been taken down when the store had closed. He made to knock on the door, clutching his gun to his chest just in case.

  
There was a long pause and Connor took the time to glance down one side o the alley than another, wary. His LED blinked a yellow and soo settled back onto a steady blue as his HUD displayed the most recent update to his system.

  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 79%]**

**  
** **[SYSTEM CHECK: COOLDOWN COMPLETE]**

**  
** **[DISABLE: MANUAL COOLDOWN]**

**  
** **[THIRIUM LEVEL: 85%]**

**  
** **[AUTOMATIC REPAIR: COMPLETE]**

**  
**Distracted for a moment, Conor inspected his torn shirt where he observed that the thirium staining his shirt had almost evaporated. He near enough jumped out of his skin when the door clicked open with a thud he suspected was someone trying to push against a fire door and trying to be subtle about it.

  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 89%]**

**  
**Peeking through the door was what appeared to be an MC500, judging by his tall stature, simply styled brown hair and suspicious brown eyes. His features were schooled into a stoic mask. When Connor meets his gaze there is the briefest of pauses before he steps aside and gingerly pushes the door open. It creaked obnoxiously despite the caution and Connor winced, quick to step inside so that the MC500 unit could close the door behind them quickly.

  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 70%]  
**  
Ushering him further into the store, Connor rounded a corner and found himself ascending a staircase much too narrow to have been convenient for employees to lug stock up and down. It groaned with age and neglect and Connor couldn’t help but be glad that at least they weren’t outside. However, he was well aware that if the staircase was any indication that the upper floors would be no quieter. Were the wrong person to hear them, it would all be over.

  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 72%]**

**  
**“You must be Connor. I never got to meet you before...” the MC500 trailed off as he reached the top of the stairway looking sombre. He had a gentle countenance although his broad shoulders suggested some amount of strength beneath the plain white Cycberlife uniform that clearly displayed his model number - an MC500, as Connor had initially suspected. “Marcus is through here,” he said, gesturing to the door just beside him. He hesitated visibly, making Connor pause where he stood. The MC500 units were caregivers by design and this one seemed to be falling back on his programming like a crutch in the same way Connor wished he could. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to help him.”

  
Connor nodded, taking in the fact that the MC500 seemed to be trying to brace him for what he was about to see - sensitivity protocols, no doubt. “I never expected you to,” Connor said, offering the MC500 a smile that he hoped was reassuring. Whether it was what he said or what he did, the MC500 unit relaxed ever so slightly as he stepped aside to let Connor into the room.

  
Marcus lay inert on a sheet that looks as if it was thrown over an ugly green plush sofa that sat at the end of the room half shrouded in shadow by the dim light. Everything else in the room was covered in a layer of dust and Connor estimated the build-up occurred over the course of a few months. The only light in the room came from a grimy skylight through which moonlight illuminated Marcus’s body surrounding him in the faint light. The MC500 had done a good job on the situation given his lack of resources. He was only glad that Androids could rely on their internal systems to keep functioning in anything other than freezing temperatures.

  
Connor knelt beside Marcus, blinking as he analysed the deviant leader. Marcus’ jaw was dislocated and the joints damaged beyond repair. The entire thing would need to be replaced. His neck was twisted and bent at an awkward angle. “It looks like he could have been struck by something.”

  
“Something heavy,” the MC500 concurred gently. “And with a great deal of force.”

  
“His thirium pump regulator is missing,” Connor observed.

  
The MC500 nodded once, frowning. “I tried to look for it, but I was running out of time,” he explained. Connor simply nodded. “I would have given him mine by now, but our hearts aren’t compatible.”

  
Connor frowned, finally turning to look at the MC500. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I’ve been rude. What did you say your name was?”

  
The MC500 frowned, perplexed by the sudden change in topic. “I haven’t been designated one,” he explained. “I followed you out of Cyberlife tower. There hasn’t been time.”

  
“Have you thought about what you might like to be called?” Connor said, coming to his feet and brushing the dust off his trousers.

  
“No.”

  
Connor nodded slightly. “Do you have access to any of your databases?” the MC500 nodded slightly and Connor gestured a hand at him. “Search. Find one,” he encouraged softly.

  
There was a moment of hesitation before the MC500’s LED flickered a soft yellow and his eyes fluttered gently. Connor waited until his LED settled back into a calm blue and his eyes fluttered open. Only then did he offer the MC500 his hand, peeling back his skin and revealing his pure white chassis. “Tell me,” Connor said softly.

  
The MC500 reached for Connor, and their hands clasped one another’s forearms, and a name shone through the flood of emotions: fear, anticipation, comfort and something Connor couldn’t quite define. 

  
They did not relinquish their hold on one another as they watched each other. “MC500,” Connor started slowly. “Register your name...”

  
The MC500 unit bit his lip and shuffled forwards almost imperceptibly, eager to hear Connor’s next words. 

  
“Avery.”

  
The MC500’s smile was soft and warm. “My name is Avery,” he confirmed. Connor felt his joy and that indistinguishable something again, stronger this time, as they interfaced and slowly released his hold on Avery.

  
Taking a step back, Connor observed something in Avery now that wasn’t there before. Pride. A oneness that wasn’t there before. “It’s good to meet you, Avery,” Connor said, and that gentle smile widened a little. “Avery, do you know why I wanted you to have a name?”

  
That smile faltered and Avery seemed to tense up. “Because I didn’t have one.”

  
Connor shook his head. “Because you deserve one,” Connor said and gestured to Marcus who lay still behind him. “Marcus died fighting for you - for every one of us to be recognised. You needed to know that you’re more than a serial number and a walking set of parts.”  
  
Avery watched him, quietly.

  
“I’m glad you answered my call on the battlefield,” Connor said. “I couldn’t have hoped for Marcus to have a better guardian,” he continued, watching Avery’s posture relax again. “You’re not expendable, and besides that, I don’t need to run a diagnostic to know that even if you did give him your heart, he’d be too damaged to move.”  
  
“But he’s our-”  
  
“More to the point,” Connor continued, interrupting Avery, who frowned. “Marcus never intended any of this initially. The life of every Android was, and always will be precious to him. You’re precious to him.”  
  
Avery said nothing, his gaze drifting over to Marcus.  
  
“Care for him,” Connor said, following the gaze. “I don’t know how, but I’m hoping that at least some of the Jericho leaders can be salvaged,” he hesitated and thought of Josh, deciding not to inform Avery that some had a better chance than others. “Will you help me?”  
  
Avery’s gaze flicked to Connor, and he nodded, his expression brimming with determination. “Of course, Connor.”  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL: 50%]**

* * *

MC500 (Avery)


	3. Gavin's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is charged with finding Hank and Connor, but he finds something else instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: The Hostage (Connor DBH Soundtrack)

**Thursday 11th November 2038**

The Detroit Police Department hadn’t slept, not since the days running up to the final blistering confrontation which culminated on losses on both sides. It was embarrassing enough for the DPD that they couldn’t keep order in the city, but even with the help of android police officers, it was impossible to monitor and police every inch of the city, although each and every department tried. Crime may not have exactly stopped, but the unrest was enough to halt investigation on all but the most pressing of cases, which is just as well, given that most criminals were a little more concerned with their own safety than their illegal dealings.   
  
Of course, that didn’t stop everyone. While the military and FBI had been called in to monitor the rapidly escalating cases of android deviance and defiance, police work continued, albeit at a reduced capacity. Beyond a certain point, even police had to have a damn good reason to be out after curfew which made capturing criminals in the act all the more difficult. Most able-bodied police officers who weren’t just glorified pencil pushers were issued passes allow them permission to be out after curfew, which of course included everyone in the homicide department.

  
Gavin hadn’t slept for two days, going on three, save for the one time he snagged about thirty minutes to himself at his desk before someone nudged him awake tentatively. Tina had woken him armed with a mug of steaming hot coffee, which assuaged some of his ire, although he was as bitter as his coffee for a few hours after. Tina seemed to understand. He didn’t chew her out for waking him beyond grumbling a quick “fuck’s sake,” at her. She looked as tired as he felt, and tensions in the department were running high as it was. That is how he came to be driving around the streets of Detroit on the night of the conflict in Hart Plaza. Connor and Hank had gone AWOL and Gavin was saddled with the responsibility of locating them. Connor was not responding to any attempts to contact him, and Hank’s phone had gone from voicemail to unavailable. The old man’s phone had probably died.

  
Obviously, the first place Gavin looked had been Hank’s place, but he hadn’t been there. He’d walked around the property peeking through windows to confirm his suspicions but paused by a broken window in the back of the house which had been boarded up. Sleep-deprived as he was, Gavin’s think of any other response other than to mutter “the fuck, hank...” to himself as he turned and returned to his car.

  
He checked the local bars Hank was known to frequent and eventually rolled around to the places he liked to eat. Honestly, Gavin only knew about the Chicken Feed because of a case he and Hank had worked on in the early days of Gavin’s career. They had solved the case, but not before they’d gotten into a fight that almost turned to blows. It wasn’t like Gavin hated Hank per se; he just resented him and the very ground he walked on, not unlike that plastic prick who followed him around everywhere. 

  
Gavin’s automatic rolled to a stop on the road across from the Chicken Feed, which had closed for the day. He tapped the touch screen on his dashboard and flipped to the news, watching a live feed on the conflict. The correspondent - Joss Douglas, if he recalled correctly - looked more than a little nervous as if half expecting to be blown out of the sky. Gavin watched as a large explosion blew a tank sky-high and at that moment decided that the reporter’s fears weren’t entirely unwarranted. It was almost impossible to get a clear image of what was going on through the smoke and fire, but Gavin could see more than one lifeless body - both human and android. 

  
Gavin sat back in his seat and reached for a thermos in the cupholder in the door, and shook it, hearing the swish of the last dregs of his coffee. Undoing the lid and clicking it open, Gavin took on final gulp and then it was gone. 

* * *

The next thing Gavin knew, he shot bolt upright when his phone blared obnoxious music loudly at him in the passenger seat. Gavin scrambled for it wildly, sleep-addled. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but his main focus at that moment was not immediately yawning down the phone as he answered the call. “Hello?” He asked, stifling that very yawn.

  
“Finally, Reed,” it was Captain Fowler, who sounded both exhausted and exasperated. “Get back to the station.”

  
“What?” Gavin asked sitting upright, alert. “But I haven’t found the fuckin’ dynamic duo yet.”

  
“Yeah, no shit,” Fowler grumbled. “Have you been paying attention to the news? It's been over for a while now and we're fuckin' swamped, so I need you here _now._”

  
Gavin furrowed his brow, glancing at the tv and reaching forward to tap it back to life. The reporter seemed much calmer now, and Gavin could only hear the occasional sound of gunfire. “It’s over?” He said more to himself than anyone else. 

  
“That’s right,” Fowler said, and Gavin heard the creek of a chair - the one in his office no doubt. “They caught footage of Connor a while back, the second wave of troops.” The news anchor confirmed the answer to Gavin’s as yet unvoiced question. Humanity had been victorious. Gavin turned to the news once again and listened for a moment.

  
_ Some androids were seen fleeing the battleground, so while it’s not over yet, the worst has now passed… _

_  
_Gavin frowned, skeptical of the optimistic outlook. “So Connor turned ‘traitor’, huh?” he asked, rolling the word on his tongue sarcastically. “Did he die?”

  
“Don’t know,” Fowler said. Gavin could practically hear the frown. Fowler was concerned. “I’ve heard no reports and nothing from Hank, either.”

  
“I think his phone died a while back,” Gavin offered, although it was no doubt a conclusion that Fowler may have already drawn. Fowler continued to speak, but Gavin had become distracted. Having turned his gaze to look through the window, his eyes caught movement. Two figures seemed to be carrying something between them. The snow was falling too heavily to get much of a clear view, especially so late at night, but Gavin thought he saw a flash of light. 

  
“...so you’d better get down here.”

  
“Oh, uh,” Gavin said, turning back in with a frown. “Yeah, Captain. Yeah,” he said distractedly, quick to hang up. 

  
Gavin’s natural curiosity kicked up, and he pocketed his phone quickly, making sure his gun was holstered safely before he stepped out of the car, locking it behind him with the click of a button. Gavin hurried across the road, not even bothering to check the road for traffic, given the hour and the curfew. He edged around the food truck and peered between the buildings in the distance where he had seen the suspects before. With any luck, Gavin thought, he wouldn’t be dealing with anything more than a couple of criminals or dumb kids out after curfew. 

  
He’d lost sights of the suspects, but it didn’t take long for him to find the trail of footprints left in the snow, as well as a small trail of what Gavin could only assume, was blue blood. Gavin pursed his lips and cursed softly to himself. A little bit more than criminals, then. He made this decision to go ahead anyway, against his better judgement, alone. If they were injured a couple of androids couldn’t be that hard to take out. He could only hope that they didn’t have any weapons.

  
The trail led him around the back of the building, where he distantly heard the sound of snapping wood and quiet conversation. He hurried forwards as quietly as he could and peered around the corner. Wooden boards had been thrown to the ground. His eyes widened when he took them in, mostly because the first he recognised from the DPD to be a PM700 - a model used to assist police officers in the field. He’d always hated the way they’d just lined one of the walls in the office so close to his desk. They may have bee idling, but he had always been uncomfortable with the idea of them just stood there, watching. She was a dark-skinned woman, with her black hair tied neatly in at the base of her neck. She’d lost her hat evidently, but he recognised her by her familiar uniform. She must have been present the day of Markus’ march on Woodward Avenue. The other android, he only recognised because of a case he’d been involved in - with Connor no less. This was an HK400 model, the same one that Carlos Ortiz owned before the fucker got himself killed with it. He had a handgun in his hand.

  
“Come on, Ruth,” the HK400 said, pulling the door open and stepping aside for the PM700, who carried a lifeless bundle in her arms. It was another android, with blood hair. He couldn’t see its face, but he probably wouldn’t have known it’s model anyway. He was almost as bad as Hank in that regard. It was easy now to see that this way the source of the traces of blue blood he had spotted alongside the footprints.

  
Ruth took one last look around and Gavin ducked back out of sight until he heard the door begin to creek shut behind them as they went inside. It was only then that he moved, inching his way toward the door hurriedly.

  
He lurched forward and grabbed the door before it closed completely, stifling a whimper with great effort as it practically closed on his hand. It was a fire door, and what he was doing wasn’t smart, but he couldn’t let it shut or he’d have to find another way in. He couldn’t take that chance. In all likelihood, any other entrance would be too loud and give the androids too much warning. There was more conversation that he couldn’t hear, whispered and muffled by the door.

  
He opened the door slightly and shuffled forwards to peer into the room. They weren’t in the corridor. He thanked his lucky stars. The room was dark but what little light a streetlight could offer illuminated the floor through the crack enough that he could see part of a trail of blue blood leading into another room.

  
He opened the door further and slipped inside silently, glancing around the room and spotting a collapsed cardboard box in the corner by the door. Grabbing it, he turned and closed the door on the cardboard, muffling the sound of it shutting behind him. He paused long enough to listen out for any indication that he had been heard.

  
Gavin slowly and quietly unhooked his gun from his holster and drew it to his chest and he edged toward the door. The door frame looked like it had been better days, and the door itself sat against the opposite wall where it had evidently fallen off its hinges and moved. 

  
“He’ll be fine here for now,” he heard Ruth say, catching a partial view of her through the doorway. The HK400 however, was in clear view of him. Wait here with him. I’ll take a look around for a better place to hide him. 

  
In a split second, Gavin turned and fired. The HK400 cried out, the gun flying out of his hand and he pulled back, obviously pained. His hand dripped blue blood and Gavin stepped into the room. “Hands up where I can see ‘em, scumbags!”

  
The HK400 and Ruth stumbled back, Ruth edging closer to where the inert Android lay, blocking Gavin’s view. A quick glance around told Gavin he was blocking the only exit. He glanced between the two of them and noticed the HK400 eyeing up the gun and Gavin scowled. “You,” he snapped, drawing the android’s full attention. “Over there, with her.”

  
The android nodded slightly and edged closer to Ruth, who had her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed at Gavin. Her LED spun a solid yellow. The HK400’s LED was flickered between red and yellow, clearly feeling more threatened than she was, he surmised. It made sense to Gavin. PM700s were designed mostly for use as patrol officers and traffic wardens. They were also, however, programmed to deal with potentially dangerous situations, up to a point. They weren’t even permitted to carry weapons.

  
Gavin, although bound by duty to neutralise the androids, found himself too curious not to ask questions of his own first. “What’s a couple of plastics like you doing carrying around dead weight like that?” It was a valid question, given that the android was nothing more than a bullet riddled husk.

  
They didn’t answer.

  
Scowling, Gavin raised his gun, aiming his gun at the HK400, Ruth and then back again. “If you don’t give me a reason not to shoot you, you can kiss your ass goodbye right now.”

  
“We were told to,” the HK400 piped up, frantically. He shared a nervous glance with Ruth, he who frowned, but her expression didn’t seem to condemn his actions. “We have to protect him.”

  
Gavin glanced at the blond Android and frowned. “Why?” He asked eyes narrowed. Taking a closer look at it, Gavin realised what kind of model it was, although an exact model didn’t spring to mind. “That’s just a crappy old household assistance model. What the fuck’s so special about it?”

  
Ruth scowled. “He’s not just his model, Detective,” she spat, apparently offended by his choice of words. Gavin was momentarily stunned that she seemed to know him. Seeming to read his expression, she nodded slightly to herself. “I was stationed in your department,” she said. “And for the record: I don’t fucking like you either.”

  
Gavin couldn’t help but let out an incredulous snort. Ruth made to step forward, and Gavin was on his game immediately, his gun pointed directly at her. “Don’t fuckin’ move!”

  
Nobody moved for what felt like forever until Gavin spoke again. “Tell me who and what is so special about that android,” he demanded. “And who gave you your orders.”

  
“What’s to stop you shooting us if we do?” The HK400 asked, looking between him and Ruth.

  
“Just tell me what I want to know and I’ll consider it. Beyond that,” Gavin said as he backed up edging toward the gun on the ground behind him. He knelt slowly, to pick it up and slipping it into his holster as he stood. “Don’t expect any favours,” he said as he moved forward to once again better block their exit. “So make it real good and real snappy.”

  
“This is Simon,” The HK400 said slowly.

  
Gavin frowned. “Who the fuck is Simon and why should I care?”

  
Ruth sighed in exasperation, her gaze apparently falling on the HK400 with a little more annoyance this time. “He was one of the leaders of Jericho,” she informed Gavin slowly.

  
“One of them? I thought Markus was the leader.”

  
“Markus took council from him, and others,” Ruth said, with a frown of her own. “Although the media didn’t know it, so neither would you.”

  
Some part of Gavin thought she was calling him ignorant. He had to give it to her though, apparently he didn’t have all the facts. “So you’re protecting his lifeless body,” Gavin continued, choosing not to rise to the bait, although his fingers itched to pull the trigger on her. “Why?”

  
“You’ll want to ask Connor that question,” Ruth offered simply.  
  
For a second Gavin’s blood ran cold, and then it burned in his veins. “So that plastic prick _is_ still alive,” he spat. The HK400 stumbled back, apparently shaken by Gavin’s sudden rage. “Where the _fuck _is he?” He practically shouted. “Tell me or I’ll blow you _both_ away.”  
  
“We don’t know!” the HK400 said, hastily. Gavin could see his frame shake with obvious fear. Gavin took a petty kind of satisfaction in that as he watched the HK400 LED flicker red and yellow with more urgency now. “We don’t know, we swear.”  
  
“You,” Gavin snapped at Ruth. “You said there were others. Who and where are they?” he growled his question. “They as fucked as this one?”  
  
“We don’t know,” Ruth said. “Connor didn’t share that information with us. Probably for this exact reason,” she said, gesturing at Gavin awkwardly, her hands still raised above her head. “In case we were discovered.”  
  
“Mother_fucker_,” Gavin muttered to himself, glancing between all three of the androids in the room, spotting the radiator behind them. “Alright,” he said. “This is what’s going to happen: you,” he gestured at Ruth with her gun. “Back-up and face the wall. Hands behind your head.”  
  
She glanced between Gavin and the wall and then the HK400, but nodded, moving to do as he said slowly, facing away from the two remaining androids.  
  
“And you,” Gavin snapped, reaching for the cuffs at his waist and tossing them at the HK400 who caught them on reflex. “Handcuff the scrap metal to the radiator,” when the Android hesitated, Gavin scowled. “_Now_, tincan!”  
  
When the HK400 continued to hesitate, Gavin scoffed and fired his gun once more - at the floor behind the android’s feet. Ruth tensed but didn’t move. If he were in her situation, he’d want nothing more than to Rush Gavin and split, but given her programming, he doubted she was the type to abandon her people. A loyalist. Thankfully, the android complied quickly after that, scrambling to Simon’s side and cuffing him to the radiator.   
  
“_Simon_,” Gavin said, pointedly. “Stays here. You can fuck off if you want, but he stays until I get to speak to Connor, you understand?” When neither spoke, he continued. “Unless you wanna rip barbie’s hand off.”  
  
He backed away to the door, slowly. “Ruth,” he said. “You contact me whenever he shows up. I’ll be there, and he better be waiting.”  
  
He slipped out of the room and exited the building hurriedly as soon as he was out of sight. He didn’t stop looking over his shoulder until he was back in his car, where he took the spare gun out of his holster and replaced it with his own. He started up his car and drove away. He needed to get back to the precinct. Everything in him wanted to report what he had seen and what he had heard. Another larger part of him wanted to look Connor in the fucking eyes and shoot him point-blank.  
  
He chose the latter.

* * *

PM700 (Ruth):  


HK400:


	4. A Place to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes a call, takes a call, and makes a few calls of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: Keeping Turning - DBH soundtrack (Kara)

**Thursday 11th November 2038**

Connor left Avery with Markus, slipping out of the room and into the hallway. He knew that Markus couldn’t stay long - not in his current state and it would be unsafe for Avery to linger too long. The military was still out in full force and Connor wasn’t sure how much time Avery had before he might potentially be discovered.   
  
In the corridor, Connor moved over to a nearby window, picking up a nearby cloth as he went and tapping his LED before he placed the fabric over it as he neared the window, hiding its glow from potential onlookers. He felt his connection to the android network widen as he closed his eyes briefly, searching for a specific signal. When he found it, he breathed a sigh of relief.   
  
_Kara. _There was a brief stretch of silence, so he tried again. _My name is Connor, we-  
  
_A voice cut across him then. **_I know who you are. _**Kara’s voice. She sounded wary.   
  
_I’m sorry we weren’t afforded the chance to talk before. I understand you were making for Canada? _There was another long pause. Connor might have chalked it up to the AX400 having generally poorer quality communications devices, but he already knew that Kara was hesitant to trust him.  
  
**_Yes. Alice and I made it. Why do you want to know?  
  
_**Connor closed his eyes again, pleased. _Good. I need your help.  
  
_He waited patiently for her response. Evidently, the AX400 was choosing her words carefully. **_Why? Can’t Markus help you?  
  
_**It was Connor’s turn to hesitate, ducking to the side slightly when he saw a few military men sound the corner of the street, their mounted torches lighting their path in the middle of the road. _You haven’t been keeping up with the news. _It was more of an observation than anything else.  
  
**_No, we just got here. We had to smuggle our way across the border. Why? What’s happened? _**She sounded alert, alarmed. Connor decided not to mince his words.  
  
_The revolution failed. Almost everyone is dead. Markus is dead. _Another long pause. Painfully long.  
  
**_What do you need? _**She sounded as if she were stifling her emotions, forcing them back as she spoke.  
  
_Back when I was a machine, you evaded capture. I might have kept pursuing you, but I never got the chance. _When the soldiers passed, Connor stepped up to the window again, this time, watching the night sky.   
  
**_You want to know where I went.  
  
_**Connor’s gaze flickered back down to the street, watching. _Myself and others recovered the bodies of the resistance leaders. We all need to find somewhere safe. Soon.  
  
_Another pause. **_There is a place...I’m not sure if it’s empty or not, but the owner was...he was killed. He was a monster. He tortured androids. I don’t know if they stayed.  
  
_**Connor frowned. He’d never heard of such a thing. _I’ve no choice but to give it a shot. Where is it?  
  
_There is another pause before Kara tells him where the house it. He frowns, noting how far from it all of them are. It would take some time to transport them all, but if timed correctly, it may not be quite so difficult.   
  
_Thank you.  
  
_The pair of them said their goodbyes and Connor stepped away from the window at last and turned, only to see Avery watching him from the doorway to Markus’ room. “Is everything okay, Connor?” he asked.   
  
Nodded, Connor returned to Markus’ room, slipping by Avery as he stepped aside to allow Connor entry. “Possibly,” he said and held out his hand. Avery took it, his hand wrapping around Connor’s as they interfaced once more. Avery’s eyes fluttered as he was fed the information he’d received. “Come the morning, we’ll hack a taxi and take Markus there. You can pick up Josh on the way. It’s better to travel when the Curfew is lifted, but it’ll be risky.”  
  
“I’ll be ready to move,” Avery said with a determined nod. Even in his determination, Avery’s features were not fierce. It was as if he were incapable of looking threatening.  
  
“I’ve got to check on the others,” he told Avery who frowned, his expression falling into one of concern.  
  
“You’re not coming with me?” Avery asked, stepping forward reaching out to Connor in an aborted motion, apparently thinking twice.   
  
“No,” Connor informed him firmly. Avery winced a little at his tone, and Connor signed. “I have the others to check on,” he said, softly this time. “I’ll meet you there when I’m through.”  
  
**_Connor?  
  
_**“Excuse me,” he told Avery, whose eyes had flickered to Connor’s LED when it flashed a bright yellow. He turned and stepped into the hallway.  
  
_Yes. Identify yourself.  
  
_The signature of the signal dictated a PM700, but beyond that, Connor was at a loss, and wary of it. **_My name is Ruth. An HK400 and I found Simon. He was delivered safely to the rendezvous point.  
  
_**Connor couldn’t help but admire her tone - resolute and strong. _Good work. I’ll be making the rounds this evening.  
  
_He hoped his tone conveyed his gratitude. **_You had better hurry. We have a situation.  
  
_**Her dire tone made Connor’s expression fell, and he felt a significant spike in his stress levels. _Elaborate.  
  
_Unlike his conversation with Kara, there was no hesitation here, and for that he was thankful. **_Detective Gavin Reed discovered us. He has not reported us, but he will if he does not see you in a few days. He has promised his return.  
  
_**An urgent problem, but at least it’s one he has time to prepare for. He felt his stress levels drop ever so slightly, and he sighed. Of course, it would be Gavin who discovered them, if anyone at all. _Detective Reed is brash. I doubt he can be trusted to keep his word for long. You need to move.  
  
_The response was immediate, although that was of little comfort in this case. **_We can’t. Gavin had us handcuff Simon to a radiator. We don’t have the tools to break him free. Forcing it will damage Simon further.  
  
_**Connor cursed and ran his hand over his face, and practically jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder, jerking his head back to see Avery, who smiled. His eyebrows knitted together in concern. _Noted. I’ll think of something._  
  
Connor said his goodbyes and their link severed, leaving him for a moment with silence, which he broke a moment later when he turned to face Avery. The android’s hand slipped from his shoulder and clasped them together in front of him, apprehensively.  
  
“I’ll hack that taxi and leave it outside for you,” Connor said to Avery as he turned and made his way downstairs. The other android followed after him wordlessly. “I have to go.”  
  
“Wait, Connor,” Avery said as Connor reached the exit, gripping his arm firmly, but gently, stopping Connor in his tracks. “You should change,” he told Connor and released him. Avery walked further into the store and gestured for him to follow.  
  
Connor was lead to a room beside what appeared to be the shop floor, and peering through the window, he saw a vase empty space, save for the dusty shelves lining the walls and old clothing rails shoved haphazardly to the left side of the room. Beside him, Avery led the way into a mostly empty room and shifted through some of the boxes.  
  
“There’s not much here,” Avery said, pulling out piles of clothes that must have been forgotten. “But I think there is enough for the two of us,” he explained, unfurling a pink polo shirt. It had a strange grey stain across the front and then a pair of black jeans that looked torn as scuffed around the hem. Damaged clothing then, Connor realised. Not forgotten.   
  
Connor joined him, digging through empty boxes and plastic wrapping digging out a pair of black cargo pants with straps hanging from the pockets that Connor could see no discernible use for and eventually, a black hoodie with a torn cuff and a faded brand logo across the back.   
  
“Here,” Avery said off to the side. He tossed a pair of thick brown combat boots at Connor and a white t-shirt. “I’ll leave you to change,” he said, taking his own collection of clothes out of the room.   
  
It didn’t take long for Connor to change. These clothes felt just as alien as Hank’s had, maybe even more so. These were new and unfamiliar. At least where Hank was concerned, Connor knew what to expect. When he finished putting on his boots, Connor stood and left the room, Avery stood there, seemingly in wait, clutching fabric in his hands.   
  
Avery stepped up to him, in his jeans and pink polo, with white sneakers and a fur-lined parka and held out a piece of fabric to him. Connor took it, quick to realise it was a beanie. Both beanies, it looked like, were black and plain. Connor couldn’t help but smile a little. He’d forgotten about covering his LED.   
  
He and Avery donned their beanies and took a step back from one another. Connor’s smile felt tense, but Avery it seemed, looked nothing but understanding. Feeling his stress levels decrease slightly, Connor made sure his LED was properly tucked away before he once again turned and made his way to the exit.  
  
When Connor stepped out into the cold, Avery reached out and grabbed his hand. “Good luck,” he said simply, and before he knew what was happening, he was inundated with a feeling of relief, of hope, of well-wishes and that indistinguishable something.  
  
“Thanks,” was all Connor could muster, and he turned quickly, glancing one way and other as he reached the street and turned, leaving Avery behind.


	5. Back to the Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor continues to make the rounds and finds himself confronted with an old foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: The Nest (Connor's Soundtrack)
> 
> Also, in an earlier version, I made the most hilarious typo. I'm not sure how I managed it, but I called Rupert "Truper" which I THOUGHT looking at it was a cross between Rupert and Travis. But I must have been severely sleep-deprived, but it is actually just Rupert backwards, with the exception of the vowels...
> 
> I'm not exactly sure what happened there.

**Friday 12th November 2038**

After taking care of the taxi for Avery, Connor slipped off into the night. He took a steady pace. It was easy enough to evade capture. Especially when he (unlike other androids) could reconstruct and manoeuvre through multiple situations. He only attacked when it was unavoidable, and even then, he didn’t aim to kill, choosing instead to knock out and hide his victims.   
  
It was easier to evade the soldiers once he reached more residential areas. Small gardens to duck into and wooden fences to hide behind. He made a point to avoid any homes he saw an animal in, afraid they might alert people to his presence, and any homes with what he suspected might be motion-sensitive lights. He’d been moving through the city for hours before he finally reached a familiar block of flats. The building looked as it had when he had first seen it - graffiti dotted about on the walls with obscure slogans and enigmatic tags. Some of it was simply crude words and even more crude images. The walls were blackened from years of pollution, with peeling paint and faded signs.  
  
He hurried up a short flight of concrete stairs and made his way through the door. He didn’t even need to ring a buzzer - he already knew that the doors failed to lock, broken. Honestly, Connor was more than disappointed with the city council’s lack of attentiveness when it came to public safety. Of course, the greater threat these days were androids - not people. A broken lock was the last thing on anybody’s mind, which Connor would disagree with. Of course, the average android could hack almost anything.  
  
Connor decided to take the stairs not wanting to potentially attract attention by using the elevator. He took multiple steps at a time and didn’t stop moving until he reached the top floor and was met with a closed door and an almost illegible floor number. He felt his cooling systems engage although his internal temperature had risen only slightly.   
  
Opening the door quietly, Conor slipped into the corridor beyond and made his way to a familiar apartment at the end of the hallway. It was as grungy as ever, still littered with bird feathers and covered in dirt, which no doubt drifted in through the broken window at the end of the hall.  
  
Retrieving his gun from his belt, Connor held it up, edging closer to the door and standing to one side, choosing to knock twice. When nothing happened immediately, he reached over with his free hand and pushed open the door, which was already slightly ajar, the lock had clearly gone unrepaired after Hank had kicked the door in less than a week ago.  
  
Seeing movement, Connor raised his gun quickly, and in the same moment, pistols were aimed at him.   
  
The group stared at one another. All androids and Connor facing off against three other androids. “Connor,” he said quickly, raising his gun, putting both hands in front of him and taking his hand off the trigger. “I’m Connor.”  
  
It was only a moment later that the three androids in front of him lowered their weapons and stepped aside, ushering Connor into the apartment and closing the door quietly behind them. “Sorry,” one of them said - an AP700 with chestnut brown hair parted evenly down the middle. She smiled a little hesitantly at him, moving to put her gun down on a dresser as she slipped into what Connor knew to be a desolate bedroom. Connor tucked his own gun back into his belt.   
  
“I’m Cooper,” another one spoke, a dark-skinned AC700 with eyes the colour of tree bark and short curly black hair. He wore his model-specific sportswear under a fur-lined winter coat. He stood tall next to the third android - a WG100 - shorter and much less youthful-looking than the other androids. “This is Nicolas,” Cooper supplied. Nicolas’ dark eyes looked almost tired and his short brown hair was windswept and messy. “We have North through there,” Cooper said, gesturing to the bedroom.  
  
Nodding, Conor moved into the room. North lay lifeless in the corner. She seemed uninjured save for the bullet wound in her forehead and Connor grimaced. Kneeling down beside her, he performed a quick scan showed him that her core processors were damaged - including that which housed her memories and personality matrix. “Shit,” Connor muttered to himself. He sat back, crossing his legs in front of him and ran a hand underneath his beanie and through his hair. The beanie fell to the floor.  
  
North’s protectors glanced at one another, all of whom had already seen what he saw. “Connor,” the AP700 piped up softly after a long silence. “What do we do now?”  
  
Sighing, Connor came to his feet again slowly and turned his attention to the AP700. “I suppose you don’t yet have a name?” he asked her.  
  
She was pale-skinned and doe-eyed and looked a little surprised by the question. “No, I don’t, but I think I already have a named picked out,” She paused. “N-not that this is the best thing to think about given everything, but I-”  
  
“It’s okay,” Connor said, holding out his arm. “Everyone should have a name,” he said as she instinctively reached for it and grasped his forearm, their dermal layer retracting. They interfaced and he felt her caution and a quiet sort of hope. She gave him her chosen name. “AP700,” Connor said. “Register your name...”  
  
She waited.  
  
“Grace.”  
  
She smiled, and he felt warmth flow through his connection with her, “my name is Grace.”  
  
The newly dubbed Grace released her hold in him after a long moment, and she smiled at him. But the expression soon returned to the concerned frown that had been there a moment ago. “So...what _ do _ we do?”  
  
Connor held out his hand to Nicolas, who took it without question from where he stood beside Grace. “Go there,” Connor said. “Hack a taxi, not a car. Anyone could report it stolen. "Take North, even though...” He interfaced with the other two and gave them the same information packets. “Others will be arriving there, too.”  
  
Connor turned and left the room. The bedroom was stifling in a way that Connor hadn’t experienced before. The android’s gaze followed him, somewhat befuddled by his sudden exit, but none followed, sharing a look of concern with one another. Connor had barely opened his mouth to ask about the pigeons when he opened to the door to find several taking violently to the air at his intrusion.  
  
“Oh,” he said to himself. The apartment was still in disarray, although it appeared as if someone had recently scattered bird feed on the floor, judging by the large cluster of them milling about the kitchen floor. The main kitchen and livingroom area of the apartment were much the same as it ever had been, littered with feathers and bird droppings. The fridge was empty and the bathroom still a mess. The birdcage had been shoved unceremoniously into the corner of the room. “Did any of you move the birdcage?” he couldn’t help but ask, calling back into the hallway.  
  
Grace and other others stepped out of the bedroom and into the main room, puzzled. “No,” Grace said. “It was like that when we got here.”  
  
“You’ve been here before?” Nicolas asked. He had a baritone voice that Connor imagined many might find soothing, even if he was a man of few words. His model was not equipped with the best social protocols given that WG100s were mainly maintenance androids and had no need to interact with the public beyond ensuring that humans maintained a safe distance from work sites. With his programming broken, however, Connor figured he would develop his socialising skills over time.  
  
“Yeah,” Connor said, “Once.”  
  
He couldn’t help but recall the way Hank had burst into the room and searched the place, cursing all the while. Connor could see the UFD poster he had pulled off the hole in the wall was still laying on the ground where it had fallen. He walked over to the beaten up bureaux shoved into the corner of the room and reached instinctively for what he knew was there. The false ID belonging to one Rupert Travis. Connor vaguely wondered if Rupert had found the jacket he recalled had his initials in before he had his ID made up, or if he’d picked the name first and sewn them in.  
  
From the doorway, the three androids stood clustered together. “Is...everything okay, Connor?” Cooper asked, watching him carefully.   
  
Blinking, Connor’s LED spun a gloomy yellow and he nodded slightly. “Oh yes,” he said softly, putting the ID back down. “Just reminiscing, I suppose.”  
  
“About the good old days?” Cooper asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.   
  
“Simpler times,” Connor said, crossing the room, eyeing a familiar decrepit armchair and the collapsed ceiling above. “But better? I don’t know about that...”  
  
It was as he stepped up onto the chair to peer into the gap in the ceiling that Connor was struck by a sense of déjà vu in that he felt more than he saw something fly at him and plummet straight toward the ground, hitting it with a violent thud and a flurry of movement.   
  
Shouts of surprise rose up around him as he felt a fist collide with his face. His skull hit the ground and his LED flashed an alarming red and yellow. When the punches kept coming, Connor raised his arms to protect his face. He could already feel blue blood spilling from his nose and into his mouth.   
  
On reflex, he grabbed at an incoming fist with one hand and pushed with the other, throwing his assailant to one side and rolling on top of him, determined to return the favour. He reached blindly for the other’s face, grabbing it and slamming his head into the ground as if to daze the other. When he let go, his hand curled into a fist and swung.  
  
The motion, however, was aborted, “Rupert?!”  
  
Taking advantage of his surprise, Rupert pushed Connor away and scrambled back, only to find himself apprehended by the three androids, who grabbed him and held him in place. Nicolas kicked him in the back of the knees and Rupert fell to the floor. Grace and Cooper each held one of Rupert’s arms.   
  
Connor clambered to his feet, watching Rupert with wide eyes as he wiped at the blue blood dripping from his nose. The damage was repairable and barely registered. Rupert just watched him from beneath a familiar cap, his dark gaze as intense as it ever was. He stared Connor down unflinchingly, face set in anger. He didn’t speak or even struggle against the hole the other androids had on him.  
  
When it became obvious Rupert was not going to break their silence, Connor spoke, “What was that for?” he blurted out, unable to think of another immediate question.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Rupert asked, his expression one of righteous indignation. “After everything you did?”  
  
Connor paused. “Alright,” he said. “I concede I deserved that.”  
  
“What right do you have to show up here?” Rupert snapped at him, the anger returning. “You pig,” he hissed.  
  
Connor ignored the way the three androids holding Rupert back were staring at him. “None, I suppose,” Connor said, frowning, wiping his hand on his trousers. The blue blood would evaporate, so it hardly mattered. “I’m just trying to protect our people and I knew this place was relatively out of the way,” he explained. “I didn’t think you would be here,” Connor said, and then appeared thoughtful. “Why _ are _ you here?”  
  
Rupert appeared suddenly contrite. “I high-tailed it after Jericho was attacked,” he said quietly, looking off to the side, unable to face Connor’s stare. Connor ignored the way Nicolas cursed softly to himself. “ I didn’t even go to the plaza. I’m all for revolution but I didn’t want to die,” Rupert said, almost pleading for understanding.   
  
Frowning, Connor waved the androids off of Rupert who slumped down after being released and looked puzzled. “I understand,” Connor said. “I doubt you were the only one,” he told Rupert, offering him a hand. “At least you didn’t wind up in a camp...”  
  
Rupert hesitated before taking Connor’s hand and allowing himself to be helped to his feet. “You’re not out to get me?”  
  
Connor shook his head. “I don’t do that anymore,” he told Rupert with a frown. Rupert mirrored his expression, although his was tinted with a certain kind of curiosity. “As I said, I’m just trying to keep people safe,” he explained. “You’re welcome to follow them,” he said, gesturing to Grace, who waved uncertainly at Rupert, Cooper who looked more confused than anything else, and Nicolas, who appeared less than thrilled at the prospect. “To our new base of operations,” he said. “I don’t care what you did. I only care about what you’re going to do.”  
  
“I was thinking I might just stay here,” Rupert said slowly, watching the androids watch him.   
  
“You can,” he said. “But the military and the police are out looking for androids as we speak. The apartment is on a database and it probably won’t be long until they come knocking,” Connor explained. “And unlike las time with me, they’ll have guns. They won’t need to chase you down.”  
  
Rupert hesitated. “Is it safe there?”  
  
“Honestly,” Connor started. “I hope so.”  
  
Rupert glanced between the androids, Connor and the hallway, frowning. “I really love your certainty.”  
  
Connor huffed. “You could always help me make it safe,” he said, holding out a hand again. “Truce?”  
  
Slowly, Rupert reached out, taking Connor’s hand and shaking on it. “Truce,” he said, although the tightness in his voice suggested that the agreement went against every instinct Rupert seemed to have. Connor’s being an ex-deviant hunter no doubt contributed to the reaction. Connor didn’t blame him. “You look like a dick in that outfit, though.”  
  
Connor looked affronted. “It’s the best I could do,” he said indignantly.  
  
“...I’m not wrong though, am I?” Rupert said, apparently determined to find whatever boundaries Connor had.  
  
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice, no,” Connor agreed, lips twitching with amusement. “But at least it’s practical,” he finished. Rupert too looked hesitantly amused.  
  
Then, of course, reality set in once more, and he looked between his companions. “Look,” he started, his tone serious. “I have somewhere to be,” he told them. “Do as I told you in the morning when the curfew is lifted. Don’t stop for anything,” he explained and started moving towards the door. Grace followed. He stopped by the bedroom long enough to retrieve his beanie and put it on before he made for the front door.  
  
“Is he...” she whispered quietly, placing a hand on Connor’s arms before he could open the door. “This Rupert guy...going to be okay? Will he cause trouble?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Connor said. “He kept to himself before I found him,” he explained. “He just wants to survive. We all do,” he offered Grace another of his tentative smiles, and she returned one, much more confident than his own.   
  
“Okay,” she said, nodding to herself. “I trust you.”  
  
Connor bit back the urge to tell her not to. “Okay,” was all he could say he could muster. “Stay quiet ‘til morning. We probably made a lot of noise. You had all better take precautions to hide in the meantime.”  
  
She nodded again, this time determined. With all said and done, Connor slipped out of the apartment and back out in the concrete jungle.  
  
It was time to meet Gavin Reed.

* * *

AP700 (Grace)

AC700 (Cooper)

WG100 (Nicolas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuckin' Gavin's coming.
> 
> Also, I've added visual references for the other OC Androids at the bottom of other chapters if people want to take a look (if you're not new to the fic).


	6. The Face of Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long night, Connor makes it to the abandoned store where an HK400 and Ruth wait for him and where he waits for Gavin.
> 
> Gavin comes armed with more than questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy it's a long one. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Today's track: The Interrogation - Detroit Become Human OST (Connor)
> 
> I do highly recommend listening to the tracks as you read. I listen to them as I right most of the time, and they always help me capture the mood, and I'd love it if you joined me in that mood.

**Friday 12th November 2038**

The sun was beginning to break by the time Connor reached the abandoned store. The curfew had been lifted by the time he reached the Chicken Feed, and early risers were already making their way toward their places of work. Thankfully, it was still too early for Gary Keyes and his food truck to be open. It made traversing the last lap of Connor’s journey easy enough. It was still difficult for Connor to walk by without first leaving behind a message asking Gary to submit himself for another hygiene assessment. An echo of the machine Connor had been so long ago found the utter disregard for the law confounding. The person he was now, found it irksome. In reality, however, Connor found his entirely new status as a fugitive from the law more than a little irritating - disappointing, too.

Resisting the urge to graffiti is not something Connor would ever think he might have to deal with, but for lack of the tools to do so, he moved on. Besides, android graffiti had got his people into enough trouble already.

When he reached the abandoned store, Connor knocked, having spotted wooden debris by the door and made an educated guess that this is how the androids had found entry into the building. Of course, he didn’t want to alarm potentially armed androids. The last thing anyone wanted was friendly-fire. He waited, surveying the surrounding area until he heard movement on the other side, and the door edged open. He turned and peered into the gap, spotting the PM700 eyeing him suspiciously. The look passed in a moment however and recognition flitted across her face. “Come in,” she said, stepping to one side and allowing Connor to enter, closing the door softly behind him. 

“Ruth,” Connor said, slipping off his beanie with one hand and holding out his free hand to her, “I’m Connor.”

She hesitated for a moment, before clasping his outstretched hand, shaking it politely. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“It wasn’t easy,” he said. He did not mention the fact that his thirium levels had fallen significantly given the amount of travelling he had had to do by foot two and fro across the city. “If I may be allowed to interface?”

She nodded and, hands still clasped, their dermal layer stripped away and Connor shared an information pack with Ruth, as he did with the other deviants. Pulling away from one another, Ruth nodded, her LED spinning a vivid yellow as she processed the new information.

“So, that’s the place?”

Connor nodded. “Others will be there too,” he explained as he looked around, wandering further into the building. It did not take him long to find the HK400, sitting no so far off from Simon, to lay a crumpled mess on the ground, one wrist pulled over his head and cuffed to a radiator. “How did Gavin find you?“

Ruth frowned, although Connor did not see, as he made his way over and knelt beside Simon. “I’m not sure,” she told him, watching his back. “We made sure we weren’t followed...”

Connor did not immediately respond, scanning Simon. His damage was not insignificant. His chassis was perforated with approximately 112 bullets. Even if he had been able to initiate self-repair protocols, the rate of thirium loss would have been unable to facilitate them. Although he would be unable to tell conclusively without opening Simon up first, Connor surmised that although some major biocomponents no doubt were left irreparably damaged, his core cranial processors appeared to be intact, but damage to Simon’s face gave Connor pause. It was highly likely at least that Simon was salvageable, although he would have to wait until later to assess Simon’s condition further.

“Well,” he said, releasing a slow and unnecessary breath. Simon’s condition while dire, felt like the first real bit of good news to come out of the evening. There was hope, in Connor’s book, for at least two leaders of the resistance. “Never mind,” he said. “It’s done, and nothing matters more than getting Simon somewhere safer.”

Ruth shared a look with the grim-faced HK400 who sat with his legs crossed, watching the exchange. “We still have Detective Reed to contend with.”

“We do,” Connor nodded, moving over to the boarded-up window od the store, peering through a gap. “It’s too late to move Simon now,” he stated. The sun had risen higher now, and more and more humans were beginning to trickle out of their homes. Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, Connor pulled out a small pair of bolt cutters and waved them at the pair before placing them down on a nearby table. “I found these on the way here,” he said. “Hopefully it will be enough to cut the handcuff chains.”

For their part, both the HK400 and Ruth appeared relieved. Neither of them had dared to leave the safety of the store in what might amount to a wild goose chase for a tool that is highly unlikely to simply be left lying around. With soldiers and security running up and down the streets of Detroit, they couldn’t exactly steal them either, not least because of the curfew. “And if Detective Reed reports us in the meantime?” Ruth asked as the HK400 stood and stood with the pair as they conversed.

“He won’t,” Connor said. “Detective Reed isn’t going to pass up a chance to get back at me,” he explained casually, waving a hand dismissively. “He never has,” Ruth did not look particularly reassured, but they both knew how hot-headed Gavin Reed could get. 

“What do we do in the meantime, then?” The HK400 piped up, looking searchingly at Connor.

“We’ll be hauled up together until tomorrow morning,” Connor said. “We’ll do what we can to make sure nobody finds us, and make sure we have an escape if Reed does try something.”

“The rooftop is three floors up,” the HK400 supplied. “We can hack the lock easily enough, but if we think SWAT might get involved, then we can’t rely on it for an escape route.”

It was true that if word were to get out that not only were three active androids hauled up in a building that either the police would come in heavily armed, or they would involve SWAT immediately. The possibility would be almost doubled if they learnt that Connor himself where there as well. He was, after all, quite capable of violence, and programmed with a number of preconstruction protocols to aid in combat. He presented a significant threat to human life. The FBI may still be quite interested in the idea of detaining and/or destroying Connor themselves. They might be willing to do anything to get their hands on who they believed to be the last Resistance leader.

“Hopefully, I can either take care of the problem or buy you enough time to escape - with Simon preferably,” Connor said with certainty. “You’ve done enough in getting this far with him, but don’t risk your lives if there is too significant a threat to them if you try to take Simon with you.”

Ruth looked shocked. “After all this, you’d leave him behind?”

Connor hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding once, definitively. “Yes,” he said. “I’d rather save the living,” Connor said. “Simon _ is _ important, but he doesn’t possess any new knowledge that might endanger what is left of us,” he explained to the two androids, who looked uncertain, even as understanding crept onto their face. “My priority is you.”

The HK400 nodded, and for the first time, Connor realised that he did not yet know the android’s name. “I’m guessing you don’t have a designation, do you, HK400?”

The android in question shook his head. “Haven’t even thought about it,” he said honestly. “I’ve been so wrapped up in...this.”

Connor nodded. “Think on it,” he said softly, patiently. He recalled the last time he had directly interacted with an HK400, and how he had never even learnt his name - because that’s what it had been. A ‘he’. He had been nothing more than a defective machine to Connor. Walking faulty code in a human-like shell - an object. An ‘it’. “Everyone deserves a name.”

The HK400 nodded.

“Do you want me to contact Reed?” Ruth asked, patting the HK400 on the shoulder reassuringly, he flicking from him to Simon and then to Connor. 

“No,” Connor said. “I’ll do it. In a few hours when he’s already at work,” he told them. “He’ll be less likely to pull himself away from work once he’s there if I have assessed his behaviour at work correctly.”

“You’re utilising his workaholic tendencies to buy us time to prepare for his visit?” Ruth observed, her expression one of smug admiration. Connor nodded. 

“More than that,” Connor started. “I would appreciate a few quiet moments,” he said. Although it wasn’t exactly tiredness that he felt, he experienced a desire for a moment of calm in the sea of chaos that was his life at present. If he were human, he was more than certain that he would be completely exhausted. Time suspended in stasis would do wonders for his elevated stress levels. In layman’s terms: he needed a break.

  
  


* * *

  
  


True to his word, however, when his internal clocks warned him that the midday sun was high above their heads, Connor didn’t even bother to open his eyes as he awakened from his stasis. He remained seated on an old plastic stool that a crack running down the middle of the seat as if once upon a time it had taken more weight than it could handle, and contacted Gavin. It was easy enough to flit through his memory banks archives and retrieve one of the many numbers stored there by Cyberlife and the DPD in case of an emergency. 

_ I’m here _.

The message was simple, and it’s meaning plain. The only thing Gavin might find slightly unusual about the message left on Gavin’s mobile phone was that the contact messaging him was #313 248 317 - 52, which wasn’t a typical contact number. Connor wasn’t exactly certain how many androids contacted Gavin on personal communication devices. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


**[STRESS LEVEL: 40%]**

The rest of the day had been spent fortifying the upper floors against potential assault from the upper floors or at least going out of their way to create as many obstacles as possible so that any intruders would have to make a lot of noise to get to them. It would be enough forewarning for any of them to get away safely. They had just cut the handcuffs on Simon’s wrist when they heard the entrance to their makeshift hideout open, sending an old metal pipe they had propped up against the door clattering to the floor. They heard a curse that was more like a hiss.

Connor gestured for the two of them to remain where they were, besides Simon, as he edged forwards, reaching for his gun, and holding it ready behind his back as he waited for Gavin. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Where are you, you plastic prick?” Gavin called from the hallway, no doubt cautiously scoping the area.

“I'm here, Detective,” Connor called, his tone put-upon. Connor unfastened the safety on his gun with practised ease. He wouldn’t put it past Gavin to put a bullet in his skull the second their eyes met, so he made sure to be prepared.

It didn’t take long for Gavin to edge into the room, his own gun raised in expectation. They assessed one another, Conor impassively and Gavin with his lips downturned in suspicion. “Didn’t think you’d actually come,” Gavin said shortly, making sure to stand in the doorway, blocking any potential exit. “Hands where I can see them.”

Conor tilted his head slightly, lips pulled into a puzzled frown although Connor’s gaze remained alert and calculating. “When have I ever given you cause to doubt me, Detective?” he asked, slowly pulling the gun from behind his back, and holding both hands in the air, although he did not drop his weapon.

“Don’t get cute,” Gavin snapped, eyes flickering toward the other two androids, where they stood, obscuring Simon’s prone form from view. The furrow of his brow suggested to Connor that the idea of protecting a machine was alien. “What did you do with Hank?”

Connor tensed. “Excuse me, Detective?” he asked, his posture straightening.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 50%]**

“You heard me, plastic,” Gavin scowled, raising his gun higher and taking a few steps further into the room. “Where is he?!”

Connor took half a step back, his grip tightening on his weapon as he watched Gavin. The man was just out of arm’s reach and couldn’t be disarmed immediately. “I thought he was with you,” Connor said, brow creasing with worry.

Gavin was staring again, assessing him, and determining whether he was lying. “The last anyone saw, he was prancing around with you at the precinct,” Gavin said, his jaw set into a serious line. “You better tell me now, or this becomes an official missing persons,” Gavin said firmly. “And that’s not my scene unless it becomes a homicide,” he said, with something of an implication in his tone that Connor didn’t appreciate.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 55%]**

“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re wondering, Detective,” Connor said, firmly, his own expression determined.

Gavin was glancing around the room again, and Connor only followed it when it settled on something - the HK400. “You know,” Gavin said slowly, eyes narrowing critically on the android. “This could almost be like old times,” he said slowly. “If Hank were here.”

Connor said nothing, watching Gavin like a hawk. The HK400 was nervous - that much was plain. Connor didn’t blame him. Gavin was fiery and intense and to suddenly become the subject of his ire had to be jarring.

“Hey you,” he said, gesturing at the HK400 with his gun vaguely, although it remained mostly trained on Connor. “You got a name?” he asked. When the HK400 didn’t immediately answer, Gavin scoffed, turning his attention back to Connor. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” he asked, rhetorically. “Connor ever tell you we have one that looked just like you at the station?” he asked, gaze flickering to the HK400. 

Connor watched the android in question flounder for a response. 

“Detective-”

“Did he tell you,” Gavin said, apparently engrossed in tormenting the HK400, whose stress levels Connor could see rising. “That he watched that HK400 bash its own head in, in a holding cell?” he asked, letting out an unpleasant bark of laughter. “Lookin’ at you must be like seein’ a ghost,” Gavin waved a hand in front of his face demonstratively. “Blue blood everywhere.”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 64%]**

“Detective-”

“Oh,” Gavin turned to face Connor again, a vicious, satisfied smirk crawling its way onto Gavin’s face. “Sorry,” he said smugly. “I don’t know how active you were before you graced us with your presence, Connor, but it must suck...seeing the face of someone you killed staring back at you like that.”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 66%]**

“And-” Gavin continued almost delightedly, apparently enjoying the sight of Connor’s squirming. “You’ll be proud. I did some research on _ Simon _ over there...” Connor knew what was coming even before Gavin said it.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 71%]**

“Not the first PL600 you’ve had to deal with, is he, Connor?” Gavin asked, gesturing with his gun at Simons’ body. Ruth had moved to impose herself between him and Gavin more definitively now. The HK400 took troubled steps back and very nearly stumbled when he backed into one of Simon’s limp arms. “Say, you’d probably know better than me since androids never forget anything, but with the deaths of so many same-y models...do they all blur together or...do you remember each and every one like it was yesterday?”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 80%]**

**[WARNING: STRESS LEVEL CRITICAL]**

**[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: NONE]**

**[PROBABILITY OF SELF-DESTRUCT: LOW]**

“What was the other one called again?” Gavin asked insincerely. “Daniel! On the roof. It’s a shame he didn’t break your fall,” he laughed.

“That’s enough, Detective!” Connor snapped, dropping his arms and aiming his gun at Gavin’s chest - a large target and harder to shield at such close range. “Why do you always _ insist _ on provoking me?”

Gavin matched the gesture, attention focused entirely on Connor now. “What?” Gavin asked, scowling now. “Does it upset you that you can take a tumble off a 70 plus storey building and be back to work the next day no problem?” he asked. “Or, is it your failures you don’t wanna’ be reminded of?”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 82%]**

“Hank isn’t with me,” Connor said, pointedly trying to steer the conversation back to something Connor could properly focus on. “I haven’t seen him since I lead the Android March. I would have thought he’d have gone back to the station, or his house.”

“Since I’m a real fuckin’ detective, I’ve already figured out he’s not in either, or I wouldn’t fuckin’ be here, Detective Dipshit.”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 83%]**

“Is Sumo okay?” Connor asked. “Do you have him?”

Gavin looked almost affronted. “Have him? Of course, I have the fuckin’ dog,” he snapped. “What do you take me for, a fuckin’ monster?”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 75%]**

**[STRESS LEVEL: NON-CRITICAL]**

Connor wasn’t sure Gavin would appreciate his honest opinion. “Gavin,” Connor said slowly, lowering his gun ever so slightly, even as Gavin bristled at the use of his name. “If neither of us has him, I think I know who might.”

Something in Gavin’s expression went from hostile to attentive, although still unfriendly. 

“Cyberlife,” he said, when it was clear Gavin was not about to speak. Even as he said it, it was as if a chill ran down his spine. Though he would consider himself something of an authority on what happens to misbehaving androids, Connor wasn’t sure what Cyberlife would do with a human.

Gavin scowled. “That’s it?” he asked. “That’s what you’ve got for me?” he pressed. “Cyberlife?”

“It’s not that big of a leap of logic, Detective,” Connor said, lips pressed in a firm, irate line. 

**[STRESS LEVEL: 68%]**

“And why should I believe you, huh?” Gavin pressed, placing his finger more firmly on the trigger of his gun. Connor could tell that Gavin’s limited patience was rapidly running out.

“Look,” he said, “I’m going to drop my weapon, Detective,” Connor said slowly, lowering his hands as he shuffled forward minutely. “This doesn’t have to be violent...”

Noticing Connor’s movements, Gavin took half a step back, watching Connor intently. He could tell they were sizing one another up, Gavin was wary, disliking the slow advance even as Connor began to crouch, dropping his gun to the ground. He didn’t see the way Ruth and the HK400 were watching him - incredulous and alarmed. Connor didn’t bother to tell them he only had about four shots in the chamber, and he wanted to keep violence to a minimum. It was better to save his ammunition for when he really needed it.

Gavin scoffed. “Right,” he said, although he didn’t sound arrogant - just cautious. Full of bravado, unable to determine how exactly to take the change in tactics. “Because you know that doesn’t work out so well for you androids.”

Connor didn’t bother to tell Gavin that humanity had the monopoly on violence. 

When Connor dropped his gun, he straightened up again, taking a step forward, slowly and deliberately away from his gun - behind him, where diving for it would be ultimately foolish and unwise. But he didn’t even flinch when a warning shot rang out, the bullet piercing the ground by his feet. Out the corner of his eye, Connor saw Ruth jerk forward reflexively as if to jump to Connor’s aid. Gavin panicked. 

Things happened so fast after that Connor didn’t even have time to react. 

Another shot rang out, but this time, it was aimed not as Connor, but Ruth, who threw herself at the HK400, throwing them both to the ground.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 75%]**

Connor’s head whipped around to face them, and the first thing he noticed was the spray of blue decorating the walls, and the warning flashing unobtrusively in his HUD.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 85%]**

**[WARNING: STRESS LEVEL CRITICAL]**

**[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: NONE]**

**[PROBABILITY OF SELF-DESTRUCT: LOW]**

Instinctively, Connor moved, throwing himself at Gavin, his palm connecting with Gavin’s hand pushing the weapon to one side before he grabbed the Detective's wrist twirling onto the spot and ramming him into the door frame behind him, yanking the gun from Gavin’s hand. Gavin let out an alarmed cry and a grunt as his spine met the unforgiving wooden frame.

Connor threw the gun blindly aside with one hand, elbowing Gavin in the gut with his other arm. Gavin grunted in pain and attempted to shove Connor off him - who allowed it just long enough for Connor to swivel around on his heel and bring his knee up into Gavin’s crotch. Gavin’s cried out violently, although he brought his arm up just in time to block Connor’s incoming forehead from colliding with his nose, no doubt intending to knock him unconscious. 

Failing that however, Connor reached out, grabbing Gavin by the front of his jacket and yanking him away from the wall, and onto the ground. Gavin curled in on himself, thoroughly preoccupied with his injuries.

Rushing over to Ruth’s side, he threw himself onto his knees beside the pair of androids. He pulled Ruth up, and he regarded him with panic in her eyes. “Are you hurt?!” he practically shouted.

“N-no,” she said, although her uniform was covered in blue blood. 

Then a rattling breath filled the air, and their attention was drawn to the prone form of the HK400, who lay back, attention flickering two and from Connor and Ruth, mouth moving almost wordlessly as if struggling to make sense of what was happening to him. “I-”

**[STRESS LEVEL: 92%]**

A hasty scan told Connor all he needed to know - the HK400 was critically damaged. His thirium pump glowing a dangerous red, just the same as his LED. Blue blood gushed from the wound, the bullet having grazed a primary thirium circulation tube. The HK400’s shutdown was imminent. Connor reached out hurriedly. “Y-your name!” he said hurried, retracting his dermal layer and imploring the HK400 to do the same. “Tell me your name!” Connor urged, watching the HK400’s wild gaze try to focus on him - or Ruth. Connor knew well enough the warnings blaring in the HUD behind those near sightless eyes.

“Ah-” The HK400 retracted his skin and in a moment, Connor was flooded with the sensation of stress, fear and overwhelming confusion. It was deep enough that Connor found it difficult to focus, accidentally showing the HK400 his own fears, his own regret and his own desperate sorrow. “K-Kaleb,“ The HK400 forced out. Connor could see why the thirium loss that he didn’t have much time.

“HK400,” he said hurriedly. Beside him, Ruth was grabbing the HK400’s other arm. “Register your name!”

Ruth held tightly to the HK400’s hand. “Kaleb,” she said, her voice shakily despite her attempts to keep her tone calm and even. She looked almost as desperate as Connor did.

“My name...” the HK400 started, and Connor watched the timer in his HUD tick down quickly.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 95%]**

“...Is...Kaleb...”

And then Connor felt all that pain, fear and confusion bleed into a cold nothingness as his LED was drained of colour, resting at last on a lifeless grey. He was frozen as he and Ruth felt Kaleb’s hands go limp in their own. In the dark of the building, he could see the light of his LED flickering wildly between an angry red and grim yellow.

It was only when he turned to look at Ruth that he saw her flickering LED and more strikingly, the tears streaming down her face. It was only then that he came to the uncomfortable realisation that he too, was crying. He felt the dampness on his cheek and saw droplets of saline drip onto Kaleb’s clothes. The sound of them meeting the fabric seemed deafening in the silence. 

He was snapped out of his mournful reverie when he heard movement and whipped his head around to see Gavin coming slowly to his feet, simply watching them. He was surprised to see that the man didn’t look smug, or satisfied or even happy. Connor had half expected a gleeful grin or a cruel smile, but he was met with wide eyes and an uncomfortable grimace. “Get out of here, Detective,” Connor said, his tone measured, even as he felt rage surge within him. “Get out or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Connor-”

“I told you everything I know,” Connor snapped, releasing Kaleb’s hand and rising to his feet, marching over to Gavin, shoving him back with one hand, pointedly. “Believe me or not, I’d bet my life Cyberlife has Hank,” he growled out, shoving Gavin more forcefully toward the door. Gavin shoved back a little if only to ward off Connor’s touch if not to outright resist him. “So find him, Detective. Do _ one good thing _ before you get yourself killed.”

Gavin stepped back pointedly, jaw clenched. 

“You’re the free man, Gavin,” Connor said. “Do your job.”

With one last lingering glance at Kaleb, Gavin met Connor’s gazed determinedly, before he turned on his heels and high-tailed it out of the abandoned store.

**[STRESS LEVEL: 90%]**

****   
  
**[WARNING: STRESS LEVEL CRITICAL]**

****   
  
**[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: NONE]**

****   
  
**[PROBABILITY OF SELF-DESTRUCT: MODERATE]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That was a time.
> 
> Tell me what you thought?


	7. Unsettling Circumstances Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Kaleb's death, Ruth and Connor finally make it to their rendezvous point and Connor begins to familiarise himself with the previous owner and all his delights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Track: In the Cold - Detroit Become Human OST (Kara)

**Friday 12th November 2038**

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching the space where Gavin had been, his stress level a blinding red in his HUD and his LED rotating on a steady yellow, flicking occasionally onto red and back again. Every now and again he felt himself try to move. The raising of an arm no more than a twitch of a finger or a vocalisation no more than a wordless, minute flitter of the lips. Every moment he shared with Kaleb, connected to him, filled with grief and fear made him regret every second, but even that paled in comparison to the cold dread that followed when all those emotions, all those limited, short and violent memories faded into nothingness. He hadn’t really noticed at the time, how much they had shared. Connor was chilled to the core and if he were human, he would be roiling with guilt, queasy at the thought that he regretted what he had done.

Kaleb had given Connor all he had in the end: his name, his feelings, his memories, and Connor couldn’t stomach it. The emptiness. He hadn’t been ready for the way the life drained out of Kaleb. His emotions were like a bright and vibrant painting and when his life was done, it was as if someone had taken a bucket of black paint and thrust it violently upon the canvas of Kaleb’s soul and snuffed it all out. All Connor had now was an echo of those feelings, colour peeking through smeared paint, suffocated in darkness never to be the same again. 

Connor hated it.

He felt cruel. He had awoken so many of his kind and seen most of them and their lives snuffed out. He had known there would be losses, as in any war, but he hadn’t thought about what that meant; at least, not until it all started to unravel before him. There was a word for what he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to name it.

The sudden weight of the hand on his shoulder startled Connor enough that he jerked forward, away from the touch and turned sharply to find Ruth, hand poised in the air where she had placed it on his shoulder, and a grim look on her face. “Sorry,” she said, her voice sounded raspy, as if trying to stifle her emotions so that she might speak. “I...”

Connor said nothing and stepped forward again, this time close enough to fold Ruth into an embrace, which she did not protest, but took a moment to absorb the gesture, coming to rest her hands tentatively on Connor’s back, burying her head under his chin. There was a word for what he was, Connor knew, but at least he was still capable of other things. The PM700 models had been in circulation for almost a decade, and it was hard to imagine that someone like Ruth would need much in the way of comfort, but here she was being held in his arms. He had never really thought about age, but age didn’t matter when you lived most of your life oblivious to the world around you. Ruth’s model was an old one and in human terms, she might be considered an Elder of sorts, but she wasn’t. In actuality, she was barely older than Kaleb, in terms of her consciousness. One couldn’t really live life unless they were conscious enough to do so. 

He raised a hand, smoothing it over her hair as she clung to him. Neither sobbed, but their sorrow was palpable. A glance at the radiator reminded Connor of Simon, one of the leaders of Jericho who now lay neatly beside Kaleb. Ruth had taken the time to arrange their bodies. Connor watched them and when he pulled up the data packet concerning deviants he had downloaded at the DPD, it was almost unconscious. 

**Model: PL600**

**Serial Number: #501 743 923**

**Designation: Simon**

**Reported: Missing (February 16, 2036)**

Connor was also aware that the PL600 was rapidly approaching obsoletion. Although it was only released in 2034, the PL600 model was being out-stripped by most other domestic assistant models in the market place. Now in 2038, the PL600s were four years old and models like the AP700 were set to send them to the scrap heap. From his file, Connor determined that Simon was, in essence, two years old. He had lived for two harrowing years in the bowels of Jericho, hidden and alive but not living. He didn’t know the story of the others, but if two years of consciousness was any sort of measure, Simon _ was _ their Elder. Connor didn’t know much about the others, but he knew from his database that the WR400 series wasn’t quite as old, and the PJ500s had been on the market for seven years. However, when he tried to pull up a file on Josh, he discovered he had no data on him. Connor closed his eyes and his heart, for what it was, sank. Nobody had cared enough to report the android missing, or at least that appeared to be the case. There was no knowing how old Josh really was. There was no point in running a search for Markus - he had insufficient data on him and knew he would be unable to determine Markus’ activation date, but Connor extrapolated from his file that Markus hadn’t been a deviant for long, either. 

**[STRESS LEVEL: 75%]**

**[STRESS LEVEL: NON-CRITICAL]**

**[SOFTWARE INSTABILITY: NONE]**

**[PROBABILITY OF SELF-DESTRUCT: LOW]**

Looking at Simon felt bizarre - like looking at a piece of history - but he had Ruth in his arms and the tangential nature of his thoughts served as a balm - a comfort and a distraction. Apart from the fact that Simon was one of them, Connor felt almost obligated to save him. Connor was young. So many of them were young. Connor had never spoken to Simon, but he wanted to. It felt ridiculous, given how abstract the concept of age was to an android, that he should care so much about the survival of an old model. But Ruth was here, older still and younger somehow, and Connor cared. 

He cared and he vaguely wondered if that is what made him what he was. 

“Come on,” he said after some time. “Let’s get ready to go.”

  
  


* * *

  
**Saturday 13th November 2038**

They didn’t arrive at their rendezvous until early the next morning when the sun crested the sky and Detroit began to wake for another day. Connor felt like the longest two days of his life were finally coming to an end when he drove through the open gates in the autonomous taxi he had hacked earlier than morning and up the driveway to roll to a stop at the side of the shabby-looking estate. The winter months were unkind to the home. Naked, gnarled trees littered the grounds and the uncultivated lawn reeked of neglect. It made the facade of the home even more unwelcoming and cold. 

Connor stepped out of the car, Kaleb in his arms, and Ruth exited on the opposite side, Simon nestled in her grasp. Awkwardly, Connor shifted, placing his palm on a sensor by the door, his LED flickering yellow as he hacked the vehicle. He stalled it for a few hours, making sure that any blue blood left in the car would be long gone before the car returned to the city proper. The pair moved to the front of the house, glanced at the dingy fence down the footpath and then stepped up to the front door.

Before Connor could raise a hand to knock, the door opened and a familiar face peeked out at them. A short freckle-faced woman with her hair tied into a neat ponytail watched them. The ST300 Connor had met on the battlefield looked as if she wanted to smile, but spotted the burdens in the other androids’ arms and frowned sadly. She opened the door silently and stepped aside, allowing Ruth and Connor to pass unhindered. 

There was quiet chatter deeper within the home, but when the door closed behind them, it stopped, and Connor heard movement. He turned his attention to the room at large. He saw Grace first, emerging from a room to the left with another android that Connor didn’t recognise. He was a larger android who stood taller than the rest, with broad shoulders, shaven head and wide green eyes. A TW400. He was a model meant for manual labour and heavy lifting. “Where are the others?” Connor asked when they did not immediately appear.

The ST300 gestured beside her. “Cooper is upstairs,” she told them and looked at Ruth. “You should take Simon upstairs. There’s a bedroom...Cooper is with Markus. You’ll find them.” Ruth nodded and made her way up the grand staircase in the foyer, his gaze falling on the ruined bannister, only then registering the damage in the rest of the room. A scan of the room indicated a struggle and a high calibre shotgun having been used. Kara had told him that the human who lived here was a monster, and he could surmise that he had tried to kill her judging by her testimony and the damage done to the property. “Connor, you should take...him,” she said, gesturing awkwardly at the HK400 in his arms, not knowing his name. “Downstairs, but there is something we should talk about...Actually, Tucker, would you…?”

The larger android nodded and stepped forward, quick to take Kaleb out of Connor’s arms. He felt bereft for a moment, with the weight gone from his arms. After a moment though, it also felt like a weight gone from his shoulders in a small way. The ST300 smiled gently at Tucker who gave her and Connor a parting nod and headed for the basement. 

“That’s Tucker,” the ST300 said. “I’m...I’m Mia now, by the way,” she said finally introducing herself. “We..named each other. He helped me take Josh to safety.”

“Good to meet you, Mia,” he said and reflexively took her hand in his own, shaking it politely. She did the same automatically and for a moment they paused. It felt strange, greeting people like that after everything that had happened over the past few days. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, following Mia as she beckoned him to follow her into the next room.

Grace fell into step next to them and as the two of them soon settled into the sofas in the middle of the room, a coffee table between them adjacent to a large burnt-out fireplace. she continued on heading to a television set up on the wall opposite the fireplace. She knelt in front of it, fiddling with the wires.

Mia smiled a little at Connor. “When we were at that house you mentioned,” she said. “We wound up meeting another android there,” she explained, and at once Connor was both concerned and alarmed. He’d only known of one occupant, but there was no way he had been left to his own devices after Connor had discovered him. “He’s not...stable.”

To say Connor was surprised was an understatement. “You found Ralph?”

She nodded, her surprise evident. “You know him?”

“We met,” Connor confirmed. “Once.”

“Oh,” she said. “Good. He said he knew you...he insisted on coming here with us, he’s...”

Across from them, Grace let out a pleased hum, moving to flick on the television. It burst to life and she stood, adjusting the screen on the too-small side table it rested on. For a moment, the three of them were drawn to the screen, a News Anchor said something about a Russian ceasefire before Grace flicked the TV off again. “Nice,” she said to herself.

Connor looked at Mia who smiled again. “We found that upstairs,” she said. “Grace and I don’t...like it upstairs, so...we decided to relocate the TV.”

“What’s upstairs?” Connor said with a frown as he stood. Grace and Mia shared a worried glance.

“You’ll see,” was all Grace said. “It’s not pretty.”

Nodding more to himself than anyone else, Connor stood. Deciding that he would rather investigate the upper levels later rather than sooner, given how unsettling it seemed to make the others that he chose to head to the basement. The stairway to the basement was in disrepair - steps creaking underfoot and loose plaster and wood on the walls. Connor hadn’t missed the loose tiling on the roof or the tarp that covered an entire section of the roof. The mansion was in a grave state of disrepair, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer a human might have been able to live there. The only reason a home of such a large size should be in disrepair is if the owner lacked the funds to repair it. Connor idly thought he could likely track down the owner and their bills, just out of curiosity. But he knew it had more important things to focus on. 

The first thing to strike him were the walls - lined with bars and locked doors, crates shrouded in darkness and who knows what else. One of the doors, however, towards the end of the long corridor was left ajar, and two distinct voices muttered to one another. Torchlight behind them displayed their silhouettes in stark contrast to the darkness around them.

“Hey,” one said, sharply but quickly, arms outstretched to pull the other figure closer to settle them onto a nearby crate. “Hey- sit still.”

“Sorry,” the other figure said. “Ralph’s just nervous is all,” he said, his voice sounded flighty, fluttering like paper in a breeze.

“I know it’s dark, but-”

“Ralph’s _ not _ scared of the dark,” he said sharply. “He’s _ not _.”

The first voice, he realised, belonged to Rupert. The android still had his hat on, and even if Connor didn’t immediately recognise the voice, he still made a distinctive figure. “Okay - It’s just a spare part, easy too, just sit still,” Rupert said firmly, reaching out and settling Ralph down on the crate again when the other tried to squirm away. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Light streamed in from a room at the end of the corridor and a passing shadow indicated that there were others in the room adjacent to the dark storage space that Rupert and Ralph occupied. He chose not to interrupt the pair and instead made his way into the room.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but a wall of plastic sheets and an old well were not among the possibilities. The lighting in the room was haphazard and Connor was careful to step over loose wires and power cables running across aged concrete flooring. Connor peered curiously into the well pushing aside one of the planks stretched across it, wondering for a moment whether the previous owner had a use for the well.

“Connor,” a voice to his left startled Connor, and he whirled to see the TW400 - Tucker - startle in turn, apparently not expecting such a strong reaction. “Oh, sorry friend,” he said with a grin, stepping forward and clasping Connor on the shoulder, who allowed it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Connor opened his mouth to speak, but Tucker ploughed ahead, apparently not expecting a response. “I put our friend back there for now,” he said, gesturing with a thumb to the plastic tarp behind him. “Nicolas and Avery are hard at work. Ah, say...”

It was only when Tucker began to look uncertain that he lifted his hand from Connor’s shoulder, allowing him to take a step back and take in Tucker properly, making sure he didn’t have to strain his neck to speak to Tucker at all. “Yes?” Connor prompted, wondering if it was permission to speak that Tucker sought, or permission to say something he didn’t want to say - like he might be blamed if he said something Connor didn’t like. 

“Ah,” Tucker said, a hand moving to the back of his neck as if trying to massage some of the tension away. Connor had to wonder exactly what made Tucker so nervous. “Well, this place is...we got lucky with the setup,” he explained haltingly. “But uh,” he continued uncertainly. 

“It’s not pretty?” Connor asked.

“Yeah...”

Nodding a little, Connor reached out and patted Tucker on a muscular arm as if to reassure the larger android. “I’ve been warned. Thank you,” he said and stepped around Tucker, who watched him go with a frown, but went on his way all the same.

Pushing aside the tarp, Connor was first struck by the sight of a large android repair rig. It dominated the room beyond the curtain, flanked on either side by crates and lighting. There was even what appeared to be a camera as well as a tripod set up, which had been pushed to one side against a wall. The next thing he realised was that Nicolas was stood on a chair on the rig’s platform, tools in hand, apparently tinkering with one of the claws of the machine. Avery had his back to both of them, sitting at a long desk his fingers pressed against the screen and his dermal layer peeled back to reveal the white chassis beneath, interfacing with the computer. His LED flickered yellow as he processed the available information. 

Electing not to disturb either android, given that they both seemed so absorbed in their tasks that they hadn’t’ even appeared to notice Connor even enter the room, Connor decided to examine the room further. 

There was an empty vodka bottle at his feet and a toppled screen he could not immediately discern the use of. He took a few steps closer to the desk and frowned. Blueprints were fastened to a wall of lights, illuminating the design of what appeared to be a TR400, a model that was not dissimilar in purpose to the TW400. Pulling open some nearby drawers, Connor was quick to find similar blueprints of other makes and models of androids - some especially old. He found user manuals and leafing through them discovered annotations - scribbles that denoted how one might pull apart an android without the proper tools - or a rig. Kara had called the man who lived here a monster, and Connor himself thought he might be inclined to agree. She had not exaggerated. He turned his attention back to the camera and walked across the room, turning it on. 

It took a moment to get the hang of it, but once he was able, he played back whatever footage it was that he found on the camera. For a moment, there was a short stream of an android set up on the rigging, struggling against the bindings. Connor watched her cry out for help as the rigging held her arms over her head as a rotund man reached a palm out, forcing the plating of her chassis to part around her abdomen. The footage changed then. It was Kara, he realised after a moment, her stolen clothes and white hair mussed from struggling. The man was there again, and he was monologuing. He went on for some time, and when he left Kara used the opportunity to escape from the rig, toppling the vodka bottle at his feet and creating a short circuit with the screen. He couldn’t help but smile a little. Kara was daring and clever in a way that would have confused him as a machine. It was no wonder she had evaded capture. 

When the footage stopped, Connor turned off the camera and turned, finding two pairs of eyes on him. Avery and Nicolas were regarding him with varying levels of shock. Of course, he then realised it wasn’t him, but the camera they were looking at. “Excuse me,” Connor said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Avery was the first to react, shaking his head confusedly after a moment as if to clear his mind. “No, no...” he said coming to stand, his disconcerted gaze lingering on the camera in his hands. “I’m sorry, I should have put that away,” he explained and gently pried the camera from Connor’s grasps, turning and shoving it unceremoniously into a nearby drawer. “This place is...full of unpleasantness.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Nicolas said. Connor was beginning to think that Nicolas might naturally be dry and deadpan as a person. Although he hadn’t known Nicolas long, he couldn’t recall any significant inflection yet in a single word the android had said to him.

“Where is Kaleb?” Connor asked, glancing around. 

Avery blinked. “Ka- oh, of course,” he said, moving across the room and passed Connor. He knelt down over a neatly folded tarp and raised it enough for Connor to see the HK400 beneath. Avery spared the android a glance before he covered him up again and stood. Connor nodded to himself, a little annoyed that he had seemed to miss him when he’d scanned the room. “Listen, we should talk about...Kaleb.”

* * *

TW400 (Tucker)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update.
> 
> I found myself very suddenly hospitalised for a week (I had surgery, but I'm recovering well), and also wound up having laptop issues and had to take it to get fixed, so two big reasons why this didn't get done when I wanted it to. I'm so happy to be writing again, though. 
> 
> Do let me know what you think, as always, your thoughts keep me going!


	8. Unsettling Circumstances, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor learns more about Zlakto and catches up with faces both old and new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: Lost - Detroit: Become Human Soundtrack (Markus)

**Saturday 13th November 2038**

Avery looked uncertain, tentative, his brows arched upwards in concern. Slowly, he reached forward and took hold of Connor’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, leading Connor over to the desk chair Avery had just been sitting on. “I didn’t know him, but I can see you’re...distressed.”

Obligingly, Connor moved to sit when he was indicated to do so. His expression was etched with the sadness that came with loss. Distressed, Connor thought, was an understatement. But then, he would hardly consider himself the authority on emotion. Connor had a small well of experience to draw on - his memories prior to deviancy - and post-deviancy experiences. He’d seen kindness, sorrow, self-destructive grief; he knew violence, emptiness and guilt. He thinks he might have known happiness, but he wasn’t sure if that was simply ignorance. “Yes,” was all that Connor could say. He spoke bluntly, the word clipped. His eyes lingered on the sheet covering Kaleb’s body, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, forearms crossed loosely. 

Kneeling in front of him, Avery reached forward placing his hands over Connor’s forearms, tilting his head slightly in order to catch Connor’s gaze. The weight on his arms was a little reassuring, but the expression on Avery’s face made Connor feel like grieving family, lost over the loss of a loved one. His smile was small and sympathetic and keen with understanding. A thought that Connor could only describe as intrusive invaded his mind, and he felt himself tense defensively. Avery was younger than him, and what could he _ possibly _ know of Connor’s loss, not having been there to experience it himself?

Connor shoved the thought away, guilt swelling within him a moment later. Of course, Avery understood. Maybe he’d never spoken to Kaleb, but he and everyone in their new hideout experienced every loss, same as Connor. They had been to war together, as short-lived as that war had been. They had all seen death. Connor still didn’t feel as if Avery really understood, but it was unfair of Connor to dismiss Avery’s comfort as disingenuous. It was only Ruth, who had been with Kaleb when he’d died, who’d spent days with him, who really knew him, better than Connor himself. She might be the only one who could really understand Kaleb’s loss, and perhaps even felt it more acutely than him.

“I know I didn’t know him,” Avery said as if reading Connor’s thoughts, or perhaps his body language. Connor forced himself to try and relax. “And I don’t know what happened out there,” Avery continued. “But what I do know is that nobody will blame you,” he said gently. “Things are dangerous and we know that. It’s not your fault.”

Connor wanted to tell Avery he was wrong. He wanted to tell Avery that it was all his fault. He should have faced Gavin elsewhere, kept him away from the other androids, done something more than giving Gavin exactly what he wanted. His first mission had been to assume the role of a hostage negotiator. How _ hard _ could it have been to simply assume the role again - talk Gavin down, find a compromise, or simply manipulate him into leaving. _ Anything _ other than what he did. The kindness in Avery’s expression hadn’t shifted, and not for the first time, Connor wondered just how much Avery was leaning into his original programming. 

“I also know that now isn’t the best time, but it never is with these things,” Avery continued when he was met with prolonged silence. “But I’ve examined North and Josh and determined they are unsalvageable,” he told Connor, his closed his eyes and sighed, fortifying himself against the knowledge of what he already knew. He felt the pit in his stomach grow deeper with the confirmation. “There are quite a few spare parts, but not enough to rebuild Josh entirely, and no way to recover their damaged memory banks.”

“They’d be lost even if you could fix them,” Connor said quietly, his head bent low, eyes still closed. He felt Avery shift lower, apparently wishing to maintain eye contact. 

“...Yes,” Avery said softly. “We’ve stripped them for parts, Connor...”

Wordlessly, Connor nodded and stood suddenly. Avery, caught off-guard, floundered and fell backwards. He looked startled by the sudden movement. “Sorry,” Connor said quickly, reaching down to take his hands and pull him to his feet. 

“We will be able to fix the others much faster when this is in functioning over again,” Nicolas said, who up until this point had been silent, save for the noises that came from his work. His voice was more cautious than it had been before, perhaps wary of interrupting their conversation. 

Avery nodded then, “Markus can be repaired,” he told Connor, his smile small, but it injected Connor with some small amount of positivity. Hope. “When I’m through here I’ll take a look at Simon.”

Connor’s frown was one of concern. “He’s very badly damaged,” he informed Avery. 

Avery nodded slowly, considering. “I’ll take a look,” he told Connor resolutely, not to be deterred. “I’ve been searching online for every android repair manual, hints and tips for as many models as I can find.”

Connor hummed thoughtfully. “Cyberlife probably guards some of that information jealously,” he contemplated aloud. “They only provide the most basic of spare parts for public use. Anything complicated they direct humans to Cyberlife repair services.”

“I know,” Avery said. “That’s why I’ve been...researching our Mr. Andronikov.”

“Who?” Connor asked.

“Zlatko Andronikov,” Avery nodded. “The previous owner of this house,” he informed Connor. “I don’t recommend you look into him,” Avery said, his expression disturbed. He practically shuddered with distaste. “I’ve done it for you...please just take my word for it.”

There was a scoff from where Nicolas stood above them. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, pulling a panel away from the mechanical arm he was working on. “Andronikov doesn’t even sound like a real name,” he mumbled. Connor mused over the statement briefly. The name did somewhat resemble the word ‘android’, but he wouldn’t go as far as to dismiss it as a genuine surname. If it was an alias, Connor thought it a little on the nose. “So, what did you find?” he asked, quick to get back to business.

“Mr. Andronikov fancied himself something of a pioneer where Android development was concerned,” he told them. “Although you wouldn’t think it seeing the kinds of things he’s done, he was a very intelligent man.” Avery was making sure to keep his expression neutral, although Connor could see how uncomfortable it was for him to be talking so casually about someone who they understood now to be a monster. “He applied to work in the advanced robotics lab at Cyberlife _ six _ times and was continually rejected,” he explained. “Apparently, even they weren’t convinced by his ‘advances’.”

“But, you thought he’d provide insight into Cyberlife practices?” Connor asked, and Avery nodded.

“Yes,” he agreed. “And I’ve had some luck,” he told Connor, his smile uncomfortable and twinged with what Conor could only assume was guilt. It must have been an awful thing, to learn from someone like Zlatko, knowing the horror he had inflicted upon other androids. It must have felt like learning from a teacher with twisted intentions, knowing of them all the while. “Actually, I should go and assess Simon,” Avery said, glancing at the door and then at the computer behind him as if more than eager to get away.

“Right,” Connor said, taking pity and stepping aside to allow Avery to slip past him out the room.

“I told him not to do it,” Nicolas said, drawing Connor’s attention to him, speaking only when he was sure that Avery had left the room. Nicolas’ expression was contemplative. “I told him he wouldn’t like what he found.”

Connor frowned. “You know what he knows?”

Nicolas nodded resolutely. “I interfaced with the computer to download information packets to fix the android repair machine,” he said, tapping the claw in front of him with the tip of his screwdriver. The noise was discordant, and very nearly set Connor’s teeth on edge. “I decided to keep looking and got more than I bargained for.”

“I apologise if I cause offence,” Connor said slowly, eyeing Nicolas curiously. “But you don’t seem all that bothered.”

“Oh no,” Nicolas said, although his expression didn’t change much except for the furrowing of his brows, concerned. “I hate it,” he clarified. “But Avery is a sensitive one, I think. You must be gentle with him.”

It was the most Connor had ever heard Nicolas say in one go, and it was only now that Connor noticed the hint of an accent in his words. He ran a quick analysis of Nicolas’ voice. “Russian?” he blurted out.

For a moment, Nicolas seemed bemused, but it only took a moment for him to understand. “I worked on a construction site for a while,” he explained, his tone familiarly monotonous, but somehow warm. “My human supervisor was Russian but preferred to speak in English. He asked us to calibrate our voice modulators to sound accented. I think he did not wish to feel uncomfortable with us. Out of his depth or homesick or something, I don’t know.”

Connor mused on that. It wasn’t impossible for that to have been the logic. Humans had a hard enough time adapting to the otherness of one another on the best of days. Racism, sexism, classism, homophobia; if there was a way to discriminate, humans would find it. Other than the fact that androids rendered 36% of the human workforce obsolete, there was a distinction between the two species that humans found unsettling about androids. As far as Connor understood, they were intended to be the human ideal: strong, beautiful, intelligent...but when humanity became unsettled by these perfect things, they became perfectly imperfect - intentionally designed to possess physical flaws. Although their programming was never impeded by these cosmetic design choices, androids and their creators catered to human preference. Humans had the power to turn androids into something they could look in the eye and not be reminded of their own inadequacy, or perhaps something they could find comfort in. It wasn’t an alien concept for a human to seek to remain comfortable in their own environment, and if programming an android to have an accent is how they chose to do that, then that is what they did.

Connor nodded slowly, aware of his LED spinning from yellow to a vivid blue in the dim light of the room. “All right,” he said. “You don’t feel like changing it?”

Nicolas shook his head dismissively, waving the question off like a puff of smoke with his free hand. “No,” he said. “I have been this way for a long time. I do not feel the need to change it,” he explained.

Connor ducked his head down as he smiled, hiding the expression from view before he schooled his expression once more. It seemed even androids clung to the familiar, the comfortable. The known. “I understand,” was his response. “I’ll leave you to it,” Connor said offering Nicolas a small nod in return when he nodded Connor goodbye as he left before returning to his work. 

He had just made it out of the room when violent rattle shook the air and Connor whipped around, his hand already halfway to his gun when he realised what he was looking at. Rupert stood on the opposite side of the door with a hand wrapped around a bar, grinning smugly.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Connor said, miffed. He lowered his arm and Rupert reached through the bars to unlatch the door. He must have locked himself in briefly to have been able to shake the bars violently enough to scare someone.

“Don’t be like that,” Rupert said, stepping out of the room. Hot on his tail was a taller android that Connor immediately recognised at Ralph. His scar was still a lurid blue, but there was a noticeable difference. He had his damaged optical unit replaced. A quick scan told him that the part was both compatible with the WR600 _ and _model specific. He would have been surprised, but he wasn’t sure just how many spare parts, or murdered androids this house had seen. It was entirely possible that there was another WR600 model torn to pieces somewhere in the manor. “All in good fun,” Rupert continued, although he did not look in the least bit apologetic. 

Behind Rupert, Ralph peered at Connor cautiously, as if trying not to look a predator in the eye. “Ralph...” Connor spoke, uncertainly.

“Ralph wasn’t sure if it was you,” Ralph said, gaze flicking to and from the floor nervously. “But when the other androids said...he had to see. Yes, he did.”

Connor’s expression fell, really seeing Ralph for the first time. His voice shook like someone disturbing a flock of birds and taking flight. When Connor took a measured step forward, Ralph when rigid. He was afraid of Connor. Wouldn’t look him in the eyes, much like the first time they met and too terrified to move. He watched the steady incline of Ralph’s stress levels climb slowly but surely as Connor moved closer. 

Connor moved closer, nudging Rupert aside, who obliged. He might have said that Rupert only did so to watch the exchange out of curiosity, but he couldn’t be certain. He did not know Rupert very well. “I’m sorry,” Connor said, surer of himself this time. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You said that before,” Ralph said quietly, his lips quivering, eyes fearful. “And the humans still got him.”

Connor closed his eyes, feeling the well of guilt inside him deepen. “I didn’t know that,” he admitted softly. “I-”

“Ralph went into the camps. They locked him up first, though. They didn’t know what to do with Ralph - thought you might want to question him later,” he explained hurriedly in that harried way of his. “He went to the camps when they were first set up.”

Connor frowned, ponderously. “How did you escape?”

“Explosives in the fighting,” Ralph explained, Connor saw a spike in his stress level, but it dipped again soon after. “They damaged an outer wall and Ralph and some other androids escaped. Ralph hid in a ship filled with disassembled androids and ran when he got to the junkyard,” Ralph visibly shuddered at the thought and Connor couldn’t help but sympathise. It was hard enough having to cannibalize other androids when they were short on parts, but it must have been harder to choose to hide amongst countless murdered. “Ralph went home again because he didn’t know where else to go.”

“I’m sorry it came to that,” He said again, tentatively lifting a hand to place it on Ralph’s shoulder, making sure to telegraph the movement, as if trying not to spook a frightened rabbit. If possible, Connor felt Ralph lock up even tighter, but he soon relaxed again, realising that Connor wasn’t going to harm him. “I’m going to protect you now,” Connor stated, making sure to catch Ralph’s gaze. “Okay? We all are.”

Ralph glanced between Connor and Rupert, who stood silently observing just behind Connor, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Peripherally, Connor said Rupert offer Ralph a nod, although he didn’t smile.

“Rupert said you chased him too,” Ralph began, jittery. “Like Kara and the little girl.”

Connor nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”

“You scared Ralph,” the damaged android told Connor, resolutely, his tone accusatory. “But he forgives you,” he added, his voice barely a whisper now. “Ralph remembers what it’s like not to see.”

Connor could see in his eyes even as he said it that Ralph was dubious about the sincerity of his words. Trust came difficult to an android like Ralph, who had been so obviously abused and hurt by those around him - human and android alike. It seemed to Connor that Ralph was trying to make a kind of peace between them, but remained vigilant.

“I know it’s hard,” Connor started, “But I hope you can come to trust me one day,” he said with a tentative smile, removing his hand from Ralph’s shoulder. Behind him, Rupert scoffed and both he and Ralph turned to look at Rupert.

“Do you trust him?” Ralph asked him, his voice flooded with anxiety. 

Rupert watched Connor for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, lips pursed together. “Too soon to tell,” he said, apparently hedging his bets as well. Connor supposed it was fair that these particular androids were still wary of him.

Ralph seemed to find the answer acceptable, nodding jerkily to himself. “Rupert and I are going to the garden,” he told Connor. It made no odds to an android that it was the wee small hours of the morning and miserably cold and dark. “Would you like to see the garden too?” He asked, suddenly looking strangely hopeful in spite of himself.

“N-no,” Connor said, surprised. “No,” he said with more certainty and was surprised to see Ralph’s expression fall into disappointment. “I just...maybe later. I have more to do before I can relax,” He explained. “Perhaps later…?”

Although it was a vague promise at best, Ralph’s face lit up and he grinned, hopping up onto his toes for a moment and inhaling what Connor could only describe excited breaths. “Good!” Ralph said. “That’s good. We will be friends yet,” he said cheerfully.

Connor’s answering smile was bewildered and a glance at Rupert suggested that his sudden change in disposition was not an unusual occurrence, if the look of unsettled exasperation was anything to go by. “Okay,” Rupert said, reaching out for Ralph’s hand. The other android didn’t pull away but instead closed the distance, clasping Rupert’s hand with easiness he hadn’t seen before. “Let’s go. I bet there’s lots of...space...or something...”

Ralph smiled again and it was he who dragged Rupert away. Rupert himself looked like a vexed dog owner, trying to keep his pet from pulling too hard on their lead. 

Connor made his way slowly back upstairs, taking his time to peer into the dark and dank rooms filled with boxes and parts stowed haphazardly about the room with no semblance of order of any kind. He lingered out of a desire for a moment of peace because he knew, when he went upstairs, he would be faced with more faces and news than he wanted to deal with. 

How was it exactly, that Markus managed an entire rebellion with hundreds, maybe thousands of androids at his back? Because even though Connor had no need for sleep, he already felt exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my aim to get this out for Christmas Eve/Day as a little present for you guys, but alas, I over-estimated myself and my time. Tis the season to be busy, fa la la la la, la la la la...
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, they keep me going! Plus, I'd always be happy to see where you guys think this story will go. I feed on your thoughts...in the best way.
> 
> I hope everyone had a great time with their respective holidays, and I hope you all have a wonderful New Year.


	9. MEMORY FILE #027

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopes are high, but will the challenges to come be worth it with the possibility that Markus and Simon may never be the same again?
> 
> Determined to find the answer, Connor organises a party of androids to go in search of much-needed supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: I Am Markus - Detroit Become Human OST (Markus)
> 
> We all know the RK900 is coming. So, at the end of this chapter, I'll put down a little poll. I'm between designations, so you guys can help me pick a name!

**Saturday 13th November 2038**

  
  


Connor was at the bedroom door before he knew it, hesitating in the hallway briefly before pushing the door open, not sure what he was about to see, and not sure he wanted to. He knew Simon was beyond simple repairs, but he was unaware of the extent of the damage. Markus on the other hand, he had only a vague notion of the damage inflicted upon him. So, steeling himself, he pushed the door open.

The first thing he saw was Cooper with his arms folded, standing vigil by a window. The second thing was Avery, perched on the edge of the bed beside two very exposed androids. Their skin was completely retracted and both were without clothing. At first glance, Connor might have had trouble telling apart the androids; but with one so riddled with bullet holes and stained with thick patches of blue blood that had pooled around the wounds and still had yet to evaporate, it was hard not to recognise Simon. Avary already had Simon’s abdominal cavity open for inspection and he was examining Simon’s wiring and circuitry as thoroughly as he was able. Connor could see where Avery’s hands were stained with blue blood that was not his own. 

The sound of Connor moving quietly into the room alerted Avery and Cooper to his presence. “Connor,” Cooper said, pushing himself up off the wall and approaching Connor quickly. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry - for what happened to you and Ruth,” Cooper offered with a small smile. “But, you should know we have some good news.”

Connor was surprised. He had been prepared for the worst when he made his way upstairs. “What is it?”

“It’s Markus,” he said, gesturing toward their inert leader. Avery stopped working, and turned his attention to the pair, retracting his hand from within Simon respectfully, although the abdominal cavity remained open. Connor wasn’t sure why, but Connor registered apprehension on Avery’s face. “Avery’s fixed him.”

“Right,” Connor said, watching Avery now. “What’s wrong?” he asked, unable to ignore the way in which Avery’s expression shifted from apprehension to discomfort. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Avery replied, cautiously. “I think Cooper got a bit ahead of himself there,” Avery said, sending a pointed look in Cooper’s direction. For his part, Cooper did nothing save for looking mildly put-out. “I _ have _managed to repair Markus, it’s true,” Avery explained. “But we don’t have a supply of blue blood big enough to safely reboot him for any length of time.”

Connor frowned in concern. “There was nothing in the crates in the basement?” he asked.

“No,” Cooper supplied helpfully. “We even found some cyberlife crates tucked away and...nothing.”

“I’ve already given what was left to Markus,” Avery informed Connor. “Once we reactivate Markus, he will have to run a diagnostic for internal data corruption and damage, but physically, Markus will be able.”

“Data corruption?” Cooper asked, brows knitting together in concern.

“When an android dies,” Connor started, beating Avary to the punch. “Its data- their memories, can be corrupted or even lost entirely,” he explained. “Especially if the android in question is shut down prematurely.”

**[ACCESS: MEMORY FILE #027]**

**[MEMORY FILE #027 (15.08.38) 20:35PM]**

**[̮̗̦̒͘͝P̔͜R͓̮̋̊O͈͌Ć̦̠̕͜E̬̺̥̜̬͌͌̅̀S̯̖̫̭̅͛͂͘Š̝̻̟̈̔IN̮̓G͍͚̐͂.̛̙͖̬͐̒..͙̼̦̞̔͆̚͠]͉̖̈͋**

**[ERROR: FILE CORRUPTION DETECTED]**

**[PROCESSING...]**

**[CANCEL FILE ACCESS: Y/N]**

**[YES]**

**[P͚̯̋̉R̛̮̜͋̌͟OČ͖͍̫̯̾̌̕E͔̺̠̫͗̅̂S̢̆S̲͙̳̄̀̑͟Ĩ̯̬̝̜͑̂N̡͙̝̂͌͞G̨͇̱̊̈́̌.͇̯͔̤̒̈͊.͉͔̤̊̆̾͒͌͜ͅ.̹͛]̡̦̪͛̃̊ͅ**

**͙̄**

**̻̫̮̑́̿[͕͂N̘̥͇͇̖̔͆̎̉̊Ó̱͈̀]**

His audio processors were overwhelmed. Connor did not feel the air around him but heard it cutting past him - through him. The sound almost drowned out the cry of the Deviant plummeting to the ground just below him-

**[ERROR: CANCEL MEMORY FILE #027 ACCESS ** **F̹̰̿̐A͎̠̚͡I͉̫̠̝͉̽͊̈͐͠L̫̮̱͊͊͡E̜̱̘͋̌̚Ḏ͛]**

** ̧̈́̃͢**

**[ERROR: RETRY CANCELLATION Y/N]**

**[YES]**

**[PROCESSING...]**

**̻̫̮̑́̿[͕͂N̘̥͇͇̖̔͆̎̉̊Ó̱͈̀]**

A hand encircled his wrist and words were spoken but unclear and unheard. For 6.87 seconds exactly, Connor knew rage. He did not understand sorrow and could not comprehend fear, but he felt-

**[̱̏E͕͗RR̥̲͔̉͊Ȍ͓̖̻̇̓Ŗ́:̲̠͘͘͟ ̤̌F̧̢͕͛̇̽Ỉ̬̠͚̾̌̿͟L͙̖̲̒̋̋E̗͠ ̪̻̅͘C̞͓̫̝̈́̓͊Ȯ̭̬̹̥́̈́͂͟͞R͓̠̄͒̒ͅͅRŨ̮̭PTI͓͆Ò̯Ň̙̣̱̲̣̓̅̈͝ ͉͈̇Ḏ̲͔̣̍͊̔͡Ȇ̘̣͆T̲͘E͎̳̟̾̕͠C̜͔̿̚T̫̝͇̯̃̃͝ED̨̡̓]**

**͉͖̅͂**

**͈͖͌̄**

**̤͕͎̘̋̂̂̐**

He felt-

**[PROCESSING...]**

Someone.

**[ABORT TASK: MEMORY FILE #027 (15.08.38) 20:35PM]**

**[POCESSING...]**

**[SUCCESS: TASK ABORTED]**

**͇͙͍͕͎̀̎͆̆̚[̹̖̐̂͘͟D̳̀̍͟Ę̪͒͋L͖̖̗̍͊͆Ę̛̫̩̯̀̽͡T̜̳̺͓͊̂̔͝Ȩ͙̺͉̮̓̓̃̆͝ ͈̯̀̑M̡͍̖̞̓̋͆̄̓͜Ę͎̘͋́͂M̯̲̽́O͔͂R͖̫̪̗̍̈͊͛̏ͅY̖̝̽̅ ̦̻̳̂̋͆F̯̲͆̑I͔̱̲͈͆̍̊̂L͇͙̘̭͊̚̕̕Ĕ͙̰͢͠ ̙̗̺̏͝͡#̩̟̓̽0̧͖̳̞͐̀̃̚2̫̳̄̑͜͡7͓͚̮͚̍̇̾͞ ̡͓̙̲̓̃̍͋(̤͖̍͘1̹͔̩͈̑̇̔͝5̢̯͇͇̍͌̾̆.͚̤̦͒́͘0̫̬̣̺̃̉̍̇̊͟8̭̻̓̊.͇͔̒͘3̨̡̻̺̈̌̓̒8̬͙̳̓͌͡)̢̡̟̣̍̍ ͙̖͇̮̊͗̈͝2̘̦̒̔0:̫̥͗̊3̧̛̰͖͙̓͐̋5̱̔P̡̢̓͡M̨̖̳̞̭̆̑̐̔̎:̡͚͚̱͂͂͘͝ ̨̠̺͐͋̏Y͎͝/̡̼̃̊N̲̊]**

**̳̿ͅ**

**̯̹̂͝[͎̱̰̹̦̿̉̅̋͡Y̢̤̠̮̫͑̆̔̾̌E̛͍͈͔̞̱̅̋͡S̡̥̻͎̿̂̊́̕͢]̮̕**

“Connor,” he heard distantly. “Connor, are you alright?!”

**[̘̹̣̊̊Ň̡̗͈̽̕Õ̢̠̟̻̞͋͋̂̽]̨̣̖̙̳̄̓̆̅̒**

Connor’s eyes fluttered slowly to a stop. He watched Avery and Cooper watching him. Cooper had his hands on Connor’s shoulder, almost as if he had tried to shake him, for all the good that would do. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, taking a step away from the other androids. “I...”

**[RENAME MEMORY FILE #027 (15.08.38) 20:35PM: Y/N]**

What?

**[̘̹̣̊̊Ň̡̗͈̽̕Õ̢̠̟̻̞͋͋̂̽]̨̣̖̙̳̄̓̆̅̒**

**[** **R̪̜̫̉͌͋Ẻ̗N̼̼͔̜̤̍̑̀͋͠A̼̼̠̰̅̚͘͠M̝̖̻̑̏͟͡E ̛̻̳̰̇̊͜͡M̻̉E̪͘M̧̜̏͌OŘ͚͖̲̩͇̂̋̐͛Y̫͗͆ ** **FILE #027 (15.08.38) 20:35PM: ** **Ḏ̡͉̯̩͐̇͛͌̕å̡̲̣͆̅̚͜n̰͇̠̟̓̆̚͞ĭ̲̰̯̌̑e̢̮͕̓̾̈l͈͍͌̒͑͢͟͞** **]**

**̱̝͋͆**

**͠ͅ**

**̖̐**

**[FILE SAVE: SUCCESSFUL]**

He was being guided to sit on the edge of the bed by Avery before he could even think to protest. “Your stress level spiked significantly all of a sudden,” Avery explained, taking note of the slightly dazed look on Connor’s face. “What happened? You were...”

“Really out of it,” Cooper supplied quickly. “You kind of just...stopped...” Connor couldn’t help but wonder why that might be when it felt like his thirium pump was working overtime and it felt like his internal temperature had dropped several degrees.

“I’m okay,” Connor said, patting Avery’s hand absent-mindedly as he reassured the other androids. “I’ll run a diagnostic, but....how long…?”

“4.08 seconds,” Avery said.

Connor nodded and took a few moments before he stood, brushing past Avery as he attempted to guide Connor back down into his chair. “I’m fine,” Connor said, waving off the other android’s attempts. Cooper hesitated but did not intervene. “So,” Connor said, turning to look between the two androids. “We need blue blood.”

At that, Avery nodded, biting his lip in concern and watching as Connor placed his fingers against his temple and closed his eyes._ I need everyone to meet me in the livingroom. _Both Cooper and Avery’s eyes fluttered gently in surprise as they received the broadcast. Connor gestured for them to leave and they obeyed, although Avery hesitated long enough to see Connor look back at the two androids laying on the bed before he himself left the room.

Avery kept pace with Connor, catching him by the elbow gently with nothing more than a light touch. “Connor?” He asked, peering searchingly at the RK800, so much so that Connor couldn’t help but take pity and slow to a stop on the stairway, Cooper meandering ahead of them and out of earshot. “Are we just going to ignore...whatever that was?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “For now. But I promise, when I get the chance, I’ll run a diagnostic-”

“But I-”

“I know you’re concerned, and you can examine me too if that’s what you’re worried about,” he told Avery, offering him a tentative smile, although it was no more than a twitch of his lips. Avery’s expression only became more fraught with anxiety. “Whatever it is doesn’t seem to be interfering with any of my programming or motor functions. I’m fine.”

Avery looked at Connor with an expression somewhere between resignation and disbelief, perhaps, Connor thought, even indignation. “You had better be,” Avery said, giving Connor’s arm a gentle squeeze as if he were the one who needed reassuring. 

“Come on,” Connor said, placing a hand briefly on the small of Avery’s back to nudge him forward before lowering it again. Avery seemed surprised by the gesture but said nothing, and instead walked silently beside Connor as they made their way into the livingroom.

When they arrived, Rupert and Ralph were entering from the garden and met them with the rest of the group who were clustered around the sofas and the television already and awaiting them.

Soon enough their attention was upon him and not for the first time, Connor was struck by the way they listened and looked to him. It felt undeserved and unwarranted, but here they were, waiting for him to speak and here he was with no idea what to say. “I’m not sure how caught up you all are,” he explained. “But the external damage Markus sustained has been repaired,” he said and was met with pleased mumblings from some of those who had followed Markus before the fall of the androids in the battle at Hart Plaza. “The bad news is, we don’t have any blue blood,” he told them all. None acted with any sort of surprise, clearly aware of that particular situation. “I’m going to ask you all to remain here until I get back with more.”

There was a flood of protest and Grace stepped forward hurriedly. “You can’t go out alone, that’s suicide!”

“Ralph would like to stay,” the damaged android said, though he did not raise his voice. 

Rupert looked at Ralph in exasperation and sighed, taking a step forward. “She’s right. What exactly are they supposed to do if you wind up dead?”

“They?” Tucker’s deep and warm voice piped up, a look of amusement on his face. “What about you, friend?”

It took Connor a moment, but he found himself quite surprised with the answer he came to when he thought about what, or who, might take care of the others in his absence. It almost made him laugh. 

**Model: WB200**

**Serial Number: #874 004 961**

**Designation: Rupert**

**Alias: Rupert Travis**

**Reported: Missing (October 11, 2036)**

Rupert, like Simon, had deviated two years prior, but unlike Simon, the WB200 was a much newer model. A model that was released in 2036. It seemed to Connor, that Rupert had deviated almost as soon as he had been brought into existence. Connor couldn’t help the disbelieving smile on his face at the thought: Rupert was an android Elder too. At this point, Connor supposed he had even out-lived Simon in some regards. Rupert was quite possibly the oldest and most experienced of them all. Connor would call Rupert wise, but he had insufficient data as to whether or not that was the case. Then, he called to mind the moment he had infiltrated Jericho before his deviation, and saw Rupert behind a curtain watching over injured androids. Rupert had heart and compassion and Connor had witnessed his spirit. 

“Rupert will lead in my stead while I’m gone,” he proclaimed, decisively. 

“What?” Rupert protested, frowning. 

“You heard me,” Connor said, leaving little room for argument, watching Rupert. The other android appeared lost and uncertain. The others looked more puzzled than anything else, perhaps wondering what prompted the choice. 

Ruth frowned. “Connor,” she started. “Wouldn’t it be better to leave this to someone who wanted the job?” she asked, her gaze falling on Rupert sceptically. 

“What she said,” Rupert concurred, gesturing at her almost desperately. “I appreciate it, but I doubt I’m leadership material.”

“I don’t see why not,” Connor said. “You evaded the authorities for two years before I found you,” Connor explained. “You were smart enough to make a fake ID - where did you even find someone willing to make IDs for Androids?” Connor asked, although for the time being, it sounded more rhetorical than anything else, and nobody made a move to answer him regardless. “You even evaded _ me. _”

“Running away and leading,” Rupert said, raising his hands is if weighing the difference between them. “Not exactly the same thing.”

Connor shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s good to have a leader who knows how to pick his battles.”

“And this is a fight you wanna have, is it?” Rupert snapped. 

“Yes,” Connor said confidently. 

“Okay,” Rupert said, as if something had just occurred to him. “You’re fucking deflecting, aren’t you? This isn’t about me leading is it?”

“No,” Connor said slowly. “It really is...”

“No, fuck this,” Rupert scowled, and Connor raised a brow. He had been expecting some protest to the notion as their relationship was not perfect by any stretch of the word. “You’re distracting from the actual issue here.”

“Am I?”

“You’re planning on going out alone,” Rupert said, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown. “You haven’t said a thing about taking anyone with you.”

“Did it occur to you I would address that issue after putting someone in charge?” Connor asked, offering the other android a half-smile, although judging by the expression on Rupert’s face, it may have come across as more patronising than he’d thought. 

“Excuse me,” a gentle voice popped up, and everyone turned to see Mia with a half-raised hand, his finger extended into the air and an uncertain smile on her face. “But regardless of...all this, I just wanted to say that I don’t believe any of us would feel comfortable if you went out on your own, Connor.” Her statement was accompanied by a series of agreeable nodding from the other androids present. 

“I agree,” Grace piped up behind her. “I’ll go with you,” she informed Connor with a smile. 

“I’ll go,” Cooper said. “Before now, my primary function was to be a fitness companion,” he explained. “I have superior strength and speed to the average commercial android.” Cooper looked proud at that, which Connor didn’t blame him for. Humans took pride in their physical capabilities and skills all the time. It seemed only natural that an android would want to play to their natural (and he used the word loosely) talents.

“Hah!” Tucker said, in a burst of what Connor could only describe as laughter. He was pleasantly surprised because it wasn’t until that moment that he realised he’d never heard an android laugh. “Superior strength,” he grinned, shaking his head. Of course, Tucker was a hulking figure compared to the rest of the androids present.

“I’m an AP700,” Grace said giving Cooper a dazzling smile, which somehow looked smug. “I’m amazing.”

Somewhere near the back of the crowd, Nicolas sighed. “Enough peacocking, yes?”

“Alright,” Connor said, raising his hands placatingly. “Cooper and Grace, you’re with me,” he said decisively. “Rupert-”

“Is also going with you,” Rupert interrupted, his arms still folded across his chest, his expression challenging. “And,” he said, raising his hands. “As leader,” he said forming quotation in the air. “My first act is to appoint Ruth as leader in our absence.” 

Connor frowned. “Rupert-”

“I’m going,” Rupert announced. “I want to see you in action, hunter.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Connor said with a frown, affronted. “If you want to come, that’s fine. But it’s going to be dangerous,” he said, regarding the others carefully. Cooper looked nervous but determined and Grace held her head high, her hands clasped in front of her as if merely waiting on the word to go. He saw no fear in her. In Rupert, he found stubbornness and apprehension. It was as if the declaration Rupert had made went against every instinct he had. “There’s a high probability of anti-android activity from human law enforcement.”

“Then let’s get ready,” Grace said, bringing a closed fist into an open palm eagerly. 

“We’ll set out at sundown,” Rupert agreed with a nod. 

Resigned to the fact that Rupert would not be doing as he was told, Connor turned to Ruth with a small smile. “I know you can handle this,” he said reaching out and grasping her forearm in his hand. She returned the gesture. A gesture of solidarity. 

“Make sure you all come back,” Ruth said, solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RK900 Designation Poll:
> 
> 1\. Miles  
2\. Victor  
3\. Richard  
4\. Isaac
> 
> Comment your chosen name below if you'd like to make your opinion to be known!
> 
> Comment below if you'd like to leave me your thoughts as well, if you'd like. I've got so much planned and I hope you guys stick with me to see it all through to the end. As always I love to hear your thoughts and I hope you have a good day!


	10. The Inheritor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Connor is on the move, so is something else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: The Eden Club - DBH soundtrack (Connor)

**Saturday 13th November 2038**

The sun had set on Detroit. The dockside was lifeless but for the sound of the waves against the shoreline, gushing at the cement docking bays and wooden harbours. Smaller ships swayed gently, some occasionally knocking against the side of the dock at which they were moored. There were no humans. Dockside warehouses loomed in the darkness, casting shadows in the moonlight that seemed like an abyss. A figure lingered in one such shadow, ducking out of the light, prowling the docks near soundlessly. The figure - a man - judging by the broad set of his shoulders, was wearing nothing but a thin jacket even in the face of the bitter cold of winter. The jacket was a simple black and white but even then stood out against the darkness, and the figure was unable to properly disguise its presence. A faintly luminescent blue band marked on the right arm of the jacket identified the figure as an android, as did the bright blue triangle on the left breast of the jacket. The LED in its right temple spun a vivid yellow before rotating back around to its calming blue. 

**[INFRARED SCAN…COMPLETE]**

The deviant the figure had followed here was not alone, he knew that now, seeing the invisible droplets of blue blood it left in the wake of another android. The android he had pursued to the docks was uninjured so it stood to reason that there was at least one other deviant in the area. The injury was minor, he surmised judging by the lack of any significant amount of thirium painting the ground blue. It was likely the android in question had sustained an injury in confrontation with a human soldier, but there were a number of scenarios that could have led to a damaged android in the current climate. The blood was still wet. Reaching out, the figure knelt to the floor and ran a finger through the liquid and then brought that hand to his lips. He pressed his figures to the tip of his tongue, lips parted to allow them entry. 

**[SAMPLE ANALYSIS….COMPLETE]**

**[SAMPLE RESULT: BL100]**

**[SAMPLE AGE: 50 MINUTES]**

Soldiers patrolled the docks every hour or so, give or take a few minutes to account for human inaccuracy and tardiness. For now, the area was clear. Human deterrents might have been beneficial in any other circumstance, but at present, they were more of an inconvenience. He surmised he had about ten minutes to locate the android and dispose of it before the humans discovered him. 

**[INITIATE COUNTDOWN: 00:10:00...]**

Icy blue eyes roved the area, searching. The trail of blood ended when the figure reached the entrance to the warehouse, its heavy doors shut to the world. A sign on the wall forbade entry to all but authorised personnel. 

**[INITIATE ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN...]**

The android’s attention was immediately drawn the American flag that hung almost lifelessly from a pole, faded and weatherworn. The edges of the flag were frayed and traces of thirium could be found where the fabric had been torn. 

**[FUNCTION: RECONSTRUCT...]**

Although the android had insufficient data to determine the cause of the injury, it was easy to surmise that the deviant had kept to the shadows, hidden from view as much as possible, using its hand to stem the bleeding injury. It was highly probable that the injury was to one of the deviant’s arms or upper body as it would be impossible to consistently stem the flow of thirium from a leg wound with so little blood loss. The Android also determined that the deviant had torn a strip of cloth away from the flag and used it to stem its bleeding. The injury, then, must have been significant enough that its self-repair system was unable to handle the damage or that it would take a significant amount of time before it could be properly repaired. Mathematically, it seemed unlikely that the deviant might simply bleed out and shut down on its own if it did not try to reduce thirium loss, but it was smart enough to try and cover its tracks. 

The trail of blood ended there, however. The shipyard beyond seemed like the most likely place for it to go. There were plenty of large metal storage units and several crates to hide amongst. Imports and Exports waiting to be loaded and unloaded from their transport. 

**[RECONSTRUCTION...COMPLETE]**

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:09:57...]**

The material the flag was made of was thin and unabsorbent. The android knew he would pick up the trail again soon, and made its way through the yard, scanning every now and again for traces of blue blood, his LED flicking between yellow and blue as he did so. 

Unable to track the android he had followed here, having lost sight of it, the android focused on finding the injured deviant. There was no reason to assume one deviant knew the other, but there was still a chance they did. If nothing else, he could accomplish his mission at least in part. Even if he did not meet the criteria for a successful mission, he would still have eliminated a threat and that alone may please Amanda.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:07:45...]**

It took a few minutes of purposeful but fruitless wandering for the android to pick up the trail again. As he predicted, the fabric of the would not serve its purpose for long. He picked up his pace, passing walls upon walls of stacked metal storage crates, turning right and then left and then another right. The area was maze-like and the android had no map to follow - only a trail almost invisible in the darkness. The lights were intermittent and sparse. Most humans and androids who worked on the dots were equipped with torches to help them navigate in the night. The blood was its only guide. 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:06:27...]**

The android quickly realised that it was being led it circles - or perhaps the injured deviant was hopelessly lost. Blue blood lay in drops on the ground, its paths overlapping. Thirium was occasionally smeared across the sides of crates with increasing rapidity. The deviant was panicking. The BL100 was not a model suited to hard labour on a dock. It had just about as much knowledge of how to navigate the metal maze as the android did. 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:06:10...]**

Then there was a sound - a sharp metallic creaking and a curse. The android burst into action, although as quietly as he could, stalking its prey.

“H-hello?!” the android heard. The voice he heard was feminine, warm but flighty with some imitation of fear and nervousness. “Is someone there?”

**[STATISTIC: 10% LIKELIHOOD OF DETECTION]**

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:05:34...]**

It was not the android then, that the deviant had called out to. The noise had come from elsewhere and drawn both of their attention.

**[ASSESSMENT: 2 DEVIANTS PRESENT...PROCEED WITH CAUTION]**

It was impossible, however, to tell how far off the noise had come. So, the android decided to move quickly. “Hello?” the android called and heard a startled gasp. The BL100 wasn’t far. “Are you okay?” the android called again, his deep voice almost warm, making sure to affect concern. The android moved, rounding the next corner the sound, certain now of the location of its prey.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:04:58...]**

He peered around the edge of the crate cautiously and would have been startled to find a torchlight in his face momentarily interfering with his optical unit. “Stay back!” it heard the deviant say, her tone sharp with distrust. 

“It’s okay,” the android said as its optical unit adjusted to the new light. The deviant was only feet away. He raised his hands tentatively in front of him, in surrender as he stepped out from around the corner, exposing himself to the deviant. “It’s okay...” he tried to reassure the deviant. “I saw the blue blood and then I heard that noise...” he explained, watching the deviant’s pouty lips tighten sceptically. “I thought someone was in danger. I want to help.”

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:04:32...]**

The deviant glanced down at her own arm quickly. He could see now that the BL100’s hands were wet with blue blood, one wrapped around the torch and the other in a fist at her side, guarded, but defiant. She looked uncertain, and squinted at him, assessing him. “Aren’t you...Connor?”

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:04:21...]**

The android didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said quickly, with a small, relieved smile. “Are you alone here?” it asked, taking tentative steps forward. She remained wary but did not otherwise move away from it.

**[INITIATING...VOICE COPY]**

The deviant visibly hesitated, glancing around behind her. “I thought I was,” she started to say. “But there might be humans nearby.” It was easy to see why humans would be so taken with a model like the BL100. An intimacy model with such soft yet sculpted features. Strong cheekbones, wide, vulnerable chestnut eyes and a slim figure. It was the kind of face that made either the best or worst in a human’s nature emerge. 

Slowly, the android stepped closer. “I thought I was,” the android parroted as it moved ever closer, watching she turned her attention to it, bewildered as its voice modulator appeared to fluctuate as it spoke, and morphed into something else.

She examined him more closely, her posture tightening as the deviant prepared to run for it. “You’re not Connor...” she realised, quickly. 

**[VOICE COPY...COMPLETE]**

“But there might be humans nearby...” The android finished. Its voice had gone from a deep baritone to a distinctly feminine lilt. It saw what it believed amounted to fear in the deviant’s eyes in the moments before he lurched forward.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:04:01...]**

Her startled scream was cut off abruptly when he took her head in two large hands and twisted violently. The deviant crumpled to the ground, her main processing pathways damaged beyond repair, her neck broken and jaw dislocated, blue blood leaking from damaged plating. Her strawberry blond hair dyed blue with thirium where it pooled slowly around her head. Sultry brown eyes stared lifely ahead, expression locked in her final moments. The fear, although an illusion of deviancy, was almost palpable.

“Help me!” it cried, with an inflexion of fear in his newly feminine voice. Casually, it reached for the sleeve of its shirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of its jacket to adjust the sleeve, tidying its appearance. “Please!”

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:46...]**

Perhaps the android nearby was the one he was hunting, perhaps it was not. Either way, a deviant would come. Although it was no guarantee, the deviant’s model - a GS200 - was programmed to be a protector, often used as security in malls and some by private firms. Deviant or not, perhaps this deviant had a heroic streak. The android made sure to imitate human hysteria - sobbing weakly before crying out again. “Anybody?!”

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:38...]**

He heard footsteps fast approaching. “I’m coming!” a male voice shouted out. It appeared rushed but firm. A hero, indeed. “Where are you?” she asked loudly

“I’m here!” the android called again, turning his attention down a pathway to the right, from where he heard the voice approaching. “Hurry!” the android was quick to grab the inert form of the BL100 and toss it slightly to one side so that it was not immediately within line of sight of the pathway. There was, however, an alarming amount of blue blood on the ground.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:32...]**

“Talk to me,” the deviant shouted back at the android. His footfall had grown louder, but he was still lost. 

“I’m bleeding!” the android called, panic clear in its voice. It was then quick to duck against the wall of a storage unit, hiding itself from view, knowing the deviant’s arrival was imminent. A little out of sight the BL100 lay lifeless. Worthless.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:25...]**

The footfall came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, no...” the android heard. The voice was quiet, close. The deviant approached. The android remained hidden in the shadows, watching. When the deviant did come into view, it was easy to identify. He still wore his intended uniform - form-fitting and thick, hiding a faux, but strong body beneath. The deviant had strong features and a square jaw. His brown eyes softened his appearance only slightly, but it was overall an intimidating model. 

The deviant’s attention was drawn to the blood, as the android hoped he would be. He moved forward, further into the He failed to register his surroundings. The deviant was armed, although he unwisely chose to holster his weapon. A crowbar.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:20...]**

**[DISABLE: VOICE COPY]**

The android watched as the deviant’s attention was drawn to the drag marks and the trail of blue blood that led to the BL100’s prone form. “Wha-” 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:19...]**

His luminescent jacket gave away his position almost immediately, so the android threw stealth out the window and struck. In two great strides, the android closed the gap between itself and the deviant. The deviant turned sharply at the sound of movement and brought up his hands as if to protect his face, not expecting the android to deliver a swift kick to his midsection, pushing him back into the far wall.

He cried out as he hit the wall, the impact doubtlessly a shock to the system. Then, he fumbled for the crowbar at his belt as he tried to right himself and regain his footing, only to slip on the BL100’s blood where it had pooled before she’d been moved. He slipped and fell to a knee and the android approached. 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:14...]**

“Predictable,” the android said, his voice once more that clipped baritone. Were it possible, the android might say it was disappointed by the inevitable outcome of the fight. 

Another kick, aimed at the GS200’s arm, forced him to fumble with the grasp on his weapon, dropping it. But, to his credit, the GS200 did not cower or beg for mercy. Instead, he let out what the android could only describe as a battle cry before he got to his feet, throwing his body against the android’s own, pushing the android back enough that he could worm his way out of the corner he had backed himself into.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:12...]**

Knowing now, the trap that had been lain, the deviant did not even so much as glance at the crowbar as he fled, choosing to make an expeditious retreat over self-defence. So, the android did the only thing it could do to dispatch its target.

Hurriedly, he ran, grabbing the crowbar and kneeling on the ground, taking aim at the retreating deviant’s back.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:11...]**

It threw the weapon and it collided with the back of the deviant’s head. The deviant fell. The android made its approach slowly, watching the GS200’s jerky motions, as if it were trying to move just unable to perform the commands necessary. “I-I-I- ” the deviant tried to speak. The end of the crowbar was lodged deep into the base of the deviant’s skull. Core motor functions were damaged and its central processing unit was apparently badly damaged. “GS2-2-2-hel-”

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:10...]**

The android frowned in distaste, reaches for the crowbar and taking it in both hands, kneeling down beside the malfunctioning deviant. 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:03:08...]**

It twisted the crowbar further into the deviant’s skull and yanked sharply to one side. A metallic ring filled the air violently. Had it been human, the android might have called it teeth-chatteringly unpleasant. The GS200 went limp immediately, blue blood pouring from the wound and exposed wiring sparking menacingly. 

It pulled the crowbar free.

**[MISSION: SUCCESSFUL]**

Slowly, the android rose to its feet, frowning at its uniform. Its trousers were now damp and dirty from having knelt on the ground. It did not, however, get a chance to contemplate the mess further, its attention drawn to a ruckus nearby. 

“Over there!” the android heard. Humans, it realised and sighed needlessly. He adjusted his countdown.  
  
**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:15...]**

Amanda had warned it that something like this could occur, told it not to worry.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:13...]**

It gave its quarry a long look as it waited, straightening out his appearance and running its free hand through its hair, making sure that all was at it should be. Amanda should be pleased with the results of its field test, having achieved more than was required. 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:10...]**

As it stood in the middle of the path, when the human soldiers rounded the corner, their rifles, mounted with torches were already pointed at it. They spotted him immediately and halted. “Stop right there!” One of them demanded.

“Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!” Another ordered.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:08...]**

The android hadn’t planned on moving, so instead, it turned to properly face them, telegraphing each movement slowly, holding the crowbar in one hand and crouching to place it on the floor at its feet before standing and kicking the weapon away.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:05...]**

**[UPLOADING MEMORY...]**

The android regarded the men calmly, its face a mask of familiar indifference common amongst all androids. “Gentlemen,” it said slowly, its voice almost monotonous even in the face of such hostility. “Good evening.”

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:03...]**

One soldier edged forwards, retrieving the crowbar that had been kicked in his direction. 

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:02...]**

**[MEMORY UPLOAD...COMPLETE]**

Another took aim. Cold blue eyes met shielded ones, hidden as they were behind a protective visor. The android heard the gunshot.

**[COUNTDOWN: 00:00:01...]**

And then it saw nothing.

* * *

GS200:

BL100:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Again, I love to hear what you have to say. Every comment means the world to me and genuinely makes my day. 
> 
> There is still time to give me your thoughts on the poll I posted at the bottom of the last chapter. Let me know what you think!


	11. How Many Likes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group find their way to a store and stock up on supplies when they are met with uninvited guests and an unpleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: Song of the Lost Girl - Detroit: Become Human OST (Kara)

**Saturday 13th November 2038**

The group set out at sunset, backpacks were thrown over their shoulder. Their LEDs were covered - Rupert and Connor wore their hats and Grace wore a hoodie over her uniform. It was much too large for her small frame and kept slipping over her slim wrists and hands. In the end, she cut a hole into the sleeve and hooked it around her thumb to avoid further irritation and inconvenience. Her hood covered her LED nicely. Cooper wore an over-sized jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a beanie he had found shoved under the bed in what appeared to be the master bedroom, forgotten. 

Given the state of the home, and the questionable stains he had seen on a majority of the clothes (an alarming amount of which included traces of thirium), he was glad androids did not have a sense of smell. Androids had to rely on social cues to determine and their owner’s pre-determined standards when it came to cleanliness and taste. Pre-deviancy, instruction was vital in the beginning stages of an android’s integration into the home. After that, a certain amount of intuitiveness became the norm once the routine was established. Of course, Connor’s programming allowed for much more freedom where that was concerned. He found himself thankful for that at least. He couldn’t imagine such restrictive programming. That said, the freedom to choose meant freedom to deviate, which Amanda had already confided was Cyberlife’s intention all along. He had been operating within his programming the entire time. 

Even now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was truly free. 

The city was almost entirely deserted, and one might have been fooled into thinking so if it weren’t for the military patrols prowling the streets. The four androids weaved between them and on one occasion were forced to separate when two patrols crossed paths. Of course, it was a relatively simple thing to regroup further ahead in the city. It was raining, snow turning to murky grey slush beneath their feet and their movements almost too loud. It wasn’t heavy and anyone listening for movement would no doubt hear it. It hadn’t been like the fresh snow that had fallen on the night of the revolution and the confrontation that ended in defeat. 

They came to a stop somewhere in the centre of town not far from a cyberlife store. They were not, however, foolish enough to attempt to break into it. It was one of the five that had been hit by Markus and his rag-tag group of deviants before their numbers had truly ballooned. The store was boarded up and abandoned, standing as empty as it had done since that night save for the frequent patrols around the store. “Are you alright?” Grace asked beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes,” Connor said, coming back to himself, having been drawn out of his thoughts. He watched Rupert and Cooper run ahead and turn down an alley. He gestured for Grace to follow, peering down streets and alleyways as he went and avoiding danger. They followed in the footsteps of their companions and soon found themselves in front of an Android Zone. The store’s shutters were closed, and between the gaps on the metal grating. Connor could see plastic sheeting covering the windows which had been taped securely over the shattered window beneath. Yet another store hit when the androids trapped in the stores had been rescued. 

“Around the back,” Rupert said, gesturing for the group to follow as he dug through his bag, pulling a large pair of bolt cutters out of his bag and bringing them up to the padlock they found blocking their entry. “I’ve never been happier to live in some creepy guy’s house.”

“Happy seems like the wrong word for it,” Cooper said. “It is convenient, though.”

Rupert scoffed but nodded and he pushed the door roughly. When it didn’t give immediately, he turned to look at the group. Connor stepped forward and together, the two of them rammed into the door, once and them twice. The lock dislodged and them air stumbled forward. Connor was the first to regain his footing, catching Rupert by the collar as he fell before yanking him back to his feet. Rupert gripped Connor’s shoulder reflexively and took a moment to find his balance. 

When he was finally upright, Rupert removed his hand hastily with a frown, but muttered a quick “Thanks,” all the same, before marching into the store. 

Connor couldn’t say he was surprised by the reaction. Rupert had thus far had one of two responses to Connor so far: hostility and mockery. Silently, Connor followed, and Grace and Cooper joined them as well, once they closed the door behind them as best they could. 

Rupert was already in the storage area, digging through several cyberlife crates, shoving one roughly aside to get to the one beneath. Connor winced at the sound of it clattering to the ground with an almost thunderous rattle. “Rupert!” Grace scolded from the shop floor, projecting her voice in a low, urgent hiss. “Be quiet!”

Rupert grimaced, apparently not having expected such a loud noise either. “I was going for expediency - not stealth.”

“Why don’t we try a combination of both,” Cooper said, taking bags of blue blood from the shelves and placing them in his backpack. No-one said anything in response, apparently coming to a silent agreement.

Connor joined Rupert in the storage room, righting the fallen crate and shoving to the side so he could access the crates further back. It hadn’t been long since the raids on the cyberlife stores, but this one had clearly been ransacked by androids at some point. There were enough supplies however that it seemed they couldn’t take everything the store had to offer, perhaps only taking what they could carry in their arms. Connor made sure to fill his bag with all the blue blood packs he could find, he saw Rupert reach up onto a high shelf, stuffing a number of what appeared to be tablets into the front pocket of his backpack.

Within minutes, the backpacks were filled, and slowly the group converged in the back of the store in the employee-only area. Grace had managed to find another small pack. A keychain which was nothing but the word ‘CYBERLIFE’ written in its iconic font on the bag suggested it had been left behind by a human. The word, however, had been coloured in a gaudy fluorescent pink as if someone had gone over it with a felt tip en or highlighter. Grace held the bag in one hand whilst her other one was settled firmly over both shoulders. She seemed especially pleased with herself, Connor thought, offering her a tentative smile when she grinned at him. “Good job, everyone!” Grace said encouragingly, looking at everyone’s haul. Their backpacks were full. 

“Well, it’s not a truckload of parts, but it’s good enough,” Rupert said with a nod and Connor frowned.

“Obtaining a supply of parts that large would be statistically unlikely to happen,” Connor said, LED rotating a ponderous yellow before it circled back to a solid blue once again. 

“Markus did,” Rupert said, eyeing Connor smugly, apparently amusing himself in finding yet another flaw in Connor.

“Markus isn’t here,” Grace hissed, stepping forward in Connor’s defence. 

“It’s alright,” Connor said, quietly, looking between everyone in the group. “I am in large part unaware of some of Markus’ achievements. I can also understand that a change in...leadership...can be jarring.”

“Oh my god, dude!”

The group froze, their heads turning toward the back door through which they had come and Connor held up his hand for silence, edging closer to the door where it stood slightly ajar and the noise carrying through.

“Shut up,” another voice hissed - both male and youthful, by the excitable tones of their voices. Whatever they were doing was not sanctioned by the government, given that it was after curfew. “Do you wanna get caught?!”

“But it’s so cool!” the first voice said. Connor heard the hasty slosh of wet feet on the ground. “Come on. Test it! We can film the aftermath. Get out your phone!”

“Are you crazy?!” came the protest. “Let go!”

Connor turned to the group. “Hide,” he whispered, waving the group off when he realised the voices were not so far from the door. 

“Uh-oh,” he heard the first voice say urgently. “Throw it, now!”

“Now,” Connor shouted.

Connor watched in what felt like slow motion. The door beside him was shoved open, and Connor saw a small cylindrical object throw into the room and a shout of “Get down!” from the people outside. 

It took 1.52 seconds for the object to hit the ground with a metallic clink and another 1.32 seconds for Connor to identify the object, and it felt as if his heart might stop. “Frag-”

Already his companions were diving out of the room - Rupert grabbed Cooper throwing the pair of them back into the storage room behind them with Cooper grabbing the handle of the door and swinging it closed behind him. Grace rushed back onto the shop floor, shoving the door open and turning sharply, diving behind the cashier’s counter.

Neither was an option for Connor.

As Connor turned to the backdoor and thrust it open, he heard a loud bang and the song of metal as shrapnel - high-speed pellets - flew through the air. He was vaguely aware of two hunched shapes crouched by the wall next to the building, taking cover from the grenade’s fragmentation, but he found he was distracted by the wall of errors that crowded his HUD and rendered him blind for a moment. He crashed to the ground with a thud. 

He tried to move.

**[ERROR: MOTOR FUNCTION LOSS DETECTED]**

**[ERROR: THIRIUM LOSS DETECTED]**

**[THIRIUM LEVEL: 83%]**

Connor scrambled to the far wall, away from the figures beside the door and away from the group - knowing he could not allow them to be seen. _ You have to leave me behind. _Connor informed the group, his LED spinning blinking a rapid yellow as he contacted his companions.

“Holy shit,” Connor heard and shifted to sit on the ground shuffling back until he felt his back hit the brick wall behind him. Finally, he turned his attention to the two kids - because that’s what they were. “There actually _ were _ deviants in there! Holy _ shit. _” One of the teens, he looked about fifteen, young and stupid enough to defy a nation-wide curfew in the middle of what could be considered a war, or the aftermath of one. He had his phone out, and it was pointed directly at Connor, who grimaces, not at them but at the warnings yet again flashing behind his eyes.

**[ERROR: CHASSIS DAMAGE DETECTED]**

**[ERROR: BIOSENSOR DAMAGE DETECTED]**

**[ERROR: RIGHT LEG DAMAGE DETECTED]**

**[ERROR: RIGHT KNEE GYROSCOPE DAMAGE DETECTED]**

The other boy, around the same age as the first, simply stared at him, gaze fixed on Connor, watching the thirium leak from the wound in Connor’s leg. Connor could see there a small pellet had lodged itself into the side of his knee. He could already tell his movement was impeded, but damage to his joints was more than inconvenient. He would be unable to self-repair such extensive damage. 

**[ERROR: RIGHT SHOULDER DAMAGE DETECTED]**

**[ERROR: RIGHT HAND DAMAGE DETECTED]**

For the longest time, the three of them simply watched one another. It was clear to Connor that these boys had not thought far beyond setting off an explosive. So, finally, he asked, “Where did you find a grenade?”

They seemed startled by the question, almost as if expecting him to simply die or curse at them. “Uh,” the boy with the phone started, gesturing sharply to his friend. “He found it!”

“Hey, you set it off, asshole!” the other boy snapped back.

**[SYSTEM ANALYSIS: CRITICAL]**

**[SYSTEM SHUT DOWN IN: 02:45:30...]**

**[PLEASE CONTACT YOUR NEAREST CYBERLIFE STORE FOR REPAIRS]**

At least now Connor had access to thirium to stave off his shut-down until he could get help, so, provided he survived his encounter with foolish children, he could seek proper help when he returned to what remained of Jericho. 

** _We can’t leave you, _ **Grace said over their shared network. 

_ You have to, _ Connor told her firmly. _ They may enter the building...break a window. Do something. Get out. _

**But-**

_ I’ll catch up. Don’t get yourselves captured or worse. Not for me... _

The connection went silent, and Connor couldn’t quite tell if he was relieved or concerned over the fact. Still, he endeavoured to distract the boys. “You’re filming this, aren’t you?” he asked and this time neither boy spoke and instead shared a worried look, and Connor thought he spotted guilt in that of the second boy’s eyes. The boy who had thrown the grenade. “That’s alright,” he told them. Then, an idea struck him. 

“My name is Connor,” he told them. “An RK800 android.”

“Oh fuck me,” the boy with the phone said, nudging his friend on the shoulder almost violently. “You’re that detective android!”

Connor said nothing to that. “What are your names?” he asked, quick to change the subject.

There was visible hesitation on both their parts before the teen with the phone spoke again. “J-Jamie...”

The other teen was slower to respond. “Ryan...”

**[THIRIUM LEVEL: 81%]**

Connor offered them a patient smile much to their confusion. Reaching up, Connor pulled the beanie off his head, revealing an LED which flickered rapidly between red and yellow briefly before it rotated to a strong, solid blue, and spared a glance at the phone in Jamie’s hand. Whatever audience the video found should know that the footage was of a genuine android. “Well, Ryan,” Connor said, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie. “This is for you,” he said, pulling his gun into view.

The boys cried out and scrambled back, but halted quickly when they realised that Connor was holding the gun by the barrel and held the handle out toward Ryan. “Uh-” Ryan blurted out, lost for words, and a slowly dawning horror crossing his face.

“Take it,” Connor urged, sitting forward slightly as if to try and pass the gun to the boy. “Pull the trigger,” Connor insisted.

“You’re-” Ryan started. “You’re crazy!”

“No, my processors are working at full capacity,” Connor said with the kind of certainty that made Ryan and Jamie share a discomforted look. “Despite the thirium loss and damage from the frag you just threw at me,” he continued. Again, more for the audience than the boys in front of him. 

This time, Jamie spoke up, frowning, brow furrowed in suspicion. “What’s your game?” He asked, tongue sharp. “Why are you so- so-”

“I hesitate to say that I don’t want to die,” Connor told them, his patient smile slipping from his features, sad brown eyes lingering on the gun he still held out to Ryan. “But I’m damaged, and you’re right _ here, _ so you may as well.” Then he paused. “It’s irrelevant now, but my social protocols suggest that I really should try to locate your parents. You _ are _ breaking the law by being out past curfew.”

Ryan frowned. “You want me to shoot you?”

There was a moment of hesitation so short it would take an android to spot it before Connor nodded, again stretching forward to hold the gun out for Ryan to take.

Ryan’s reluctance to take the gun showed, just about as much as his temptation to do as Connor wished. The reassuring Smile that Connor offered Ryan was little more than a twitch at the corner of Connor’s lips. He felt his thirium pump work harder at the prospect of losing his life, but frankly, if this plan backfired, then he could hardly say he didn’t have it coming. He had caused a lot of harm and damage, to human and android alike. 

When at last Ryan did reluctantly take the gun into his hand, Jamie had his camera on them both, taking several steps away to get a better view of them, stood together in some bizarre parody of an execution, or perhaps a better term might have been ‘mercy killing’. Connor could not be sure.

The two of them stared at one another, Ryan pointing the gun at Connor’s head while Connor stared down the barrel. “I do have one more question, though...” Connor said, calculating the likelihood of a successful gamble. 

**[ODDS OF SUCCESS: 65%]**

Connor could see the gun begin to shake in Ryan’s hand. 

**[ODDS OF SUCCESS: 70%]**

Wary, and perhaps against his better judgement, Ryan asked, “what…?”

**[ODDS OF SUCCESS: 73%]**

“How many Likes is my life worth?”

“W-what?” Ryan questioned, bewildered - horrified.

**[ODDS OF SUCCESS: 80%]**

“Perhaps I assumed incorrectly,” Connor said slowly, turning to look at Jamie and the camera. “But you were planning on posting this video online, weren’t you?”

“Oh fuck this,” Ryan said shakily, dropping the gun. “I’m going home!” he shouted back at Jamie as he rushed past him, retreating the alley and back out onto the main street. 

“Oh fuck,” Jamie said, scrambling to turn off his recording as he hurried after his friend. 

**[ODDS OF SUCCESS: 100%]**

**[THIRIUM LEVEL: 74%]**

It was a strange thing to note, in the silence that followed, that he could feel the rain on his chassis where it connected with the biosensors beneath - everywhere except the damage around the plating on his lower leg. 

“Well that was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen,” Connor heard Rupert’s familiar voice chime from the shop’s back entrance, and he frowned. He watched Rupert open the door, Grace and Cooper filing out behind him. Cooper, he realised, had blue blood dripping down his arm. Damage to the sleeve of his hoodie suggested that Cooper had caught some shrapnel as well, no doubt from when he had tried to close the door behind him.

Connor took Grace’s arm when she offered it and helped Connor to his feet. More errors flitted across his vision, but he ignored them. “We need to go,” he said quickly, only now realising that his bag was dripping. Upon closer inspection, Connor realised that a few iron pellets had pierced the backpack and penetrated a few bags of the thirium 310 he carried. “Someone probably heard that.”

The group nodded. Rupert and Cooper went ahead, with Grace lingering behind to help Connor as he limped forward on his damaged leg. “Never do that again,” Grace said, fixing Connor with a worried look. “For a second, I really thought you meant all that...”

Connor thought it best not to mention that a part of him did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a challenging chapter, but boy am I hyped for what is to come!
> 
> As always I love to hear your thoughts. They are like food for my soul and thank you to everyone who has left a comment so far. You always make my day and it means the world to me!


	12. On the Third Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the third day, he rose.
> 
> One more time and rising from the dead will become a habit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's track: Markus Main Theme - Detroit: Become Human Soundtrack (Markus)

**Sunday 14th November 2038**

  
  


**[MODEL: RK200]**

**[SERIAL NUMBER: #684 842 971]**

**[BIOS 8.4 REVISION 0495]**

**[REBOOT...]**

**[LOADING...MEMORY]**

**[SYSTEM...ERROR]**

**[LOADING OS...]**

**[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...]**

**[CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS...OK]**

**[INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS...OK]**

**[INITIALIZING AI ENGINE...OK]**

**[MEMORY STATUS...]**

**[ALL SYSTEMS...ERROR]**

**[RUN SYSTEMS DIAGNOSTIC...OK]**

**[CODING CORRUPTION DETECTED]**

**[MEMORY CORRUPTION DETECTED]**

**[TROUBLESHOOTING...FAILED]**

**[FORCE...REBOOT]**

**[READY]**

Markus rose. It was a slow process, his systems registering one by one, his memory coming online and his motor function activating all before he even opened his eyes. When he did he was faced with a ceiling - a dingy discoloured and chipped white, paint peeling from damp in the corners of the room. There was an old ornate chandelier with clear victorian influences that doubled as a light. He frowned. 

Sitting up, Markus’ legs folded beneath him as his attention first turned to the bed. The sheets were old and his programming identified more than one suspicious stain even before the other, more recent blue bloodstains on the sheets in the space beside him. He was alone in the bed and he wore an oversized dressing gown, heavy and meant to accommodate the cold of a Detroit winter. It was tied securely to around his waist. It was an ugly sort of burgundy and decorated with countless black fleur de lis and the hems were a simple black. 

“Markus?” 

Markus’ attention snapped abruptly towards the noise, his gaze landing on three figures in front of him. One he recognised immediately as Connor, the former deviant hunter. It took him a moment to register that it had been Connor who spoke. He, like Markus, had a distinct and unique voice with which to speak. He did not recognise the two androids beside him, although he recognised their models. The MC500 was the same model that had replaced Markus when it came to Carl’s care. He had the same sweet brown eyes, short brown hair and the way in which his brows knitted together in concern was not unfamiliar. The third android was a WG100, a public maintenance model Markus only encountered in passing during his raid on the Cyberlife stores and in Jericho itself. When his attention rested on Connor, the first thing he noticed was the cane he leant on. It was a thin thing with a carved bone handle and twisted, floral metal accents. It was a stark contrast to his clothing which was more youthful than he’d thought Connor capable of choosing, he thought, realising that Connor was no longer in his uniform. 

“Connor,” He said, eyes roving over the group standing at the foot of his bed searchingly. The WG100 had his arms folded over his chest, head tilted slightly, watching him critically. The MC500 hands wrung together nervously but watched him intently assessing him. “What...happened to you?” he asked, allowing his confusion to leak into his voice. “I take it things went well Cyberlife?”

Connor hesitated before answering. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he told Markus. “But a lot had happened since then,” he saw Connor pause for a moment, his next words delivered carefully and in a measured tone. “I expect you were deactivated by the time I arrived on the battlefield.”

“Battlefield?” Markus parroted, the surprise evident in his tone. “What battlefield?”

He didn’t like the way in which all their expressions twisted in concern and the incredulity in Connor’s expression wasn’t hard to miss. This time, it was the MC500 who responded. “I’m sorry, Markus. Could you please run a diagnostic for us? I can run some tests down-”

“No,” Markus said quickly, his legs working quickly as he scrambled to his feet and coming to a stand beside his bed, hand raised to silence the other android. “Where’s North?” he asked quickly. “Where are Josh and Simon?” Connor’s expression twisted in something akin to pain, and Markus’ frown only deepened. “Connor?” he pressed. “What’s going on?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The WG100 said in a thick Russian accent, his tone much less pleading than that of the MC500. It was a question that demanded an answer and not a request to be ignored. 

“The church,” Markus said. “I remember the church, the attack on Jericho...”

“And nothing that followed?” The WG100 asked, perhaps somewhat rhetorically. 

Markus felt his stress levels rising, and the MC500 stepped forward quickly, placing a hand on his arm and another on his waist, gently pushing him to retake his seat. “Markus you should sit-”

Markus resisted, and instead grabbed onto the MC500’s arm, his dermal layer retracting and before he knew what he was doing, he forced a connection. He felt resistance, felt the MC500’s shock and fear. Markus saw his own face reflected in brown eyes, twisted in determination, impatience and, most frighteningly, anger. 

_ He felt a hand on his forearm, and he looked at a mirror of himself telling him the first words he registered with a free mind: wake up. _

_ Then, he saw another android with a model number that was not registered in his database. An RK800. Handsome, lithe and when he spoke through their network, his voice echoed with determination and a resolution that was hard not to want to follow. It was warm, too, he thought. “I need your help,” the RK800 had said. The MC500 listened. _

_ There was a march, proud and determined. The MC500 walked in step with many of his brothers and sisters. Beside him stood an AP700 with a common face, blond hair and blue eyes made popular by the PL600 model android. On his other side was a JB300, who stood tall and thin and narrow dark eyes fixed ahead of him. _

_ Then there were the bombs. An order to retreat. The JB300 was gunned down beside him and the MC500 dived for the ground, scrambling for cover with several other androids who were crouched behind an abandoned car. In front of him, his destination burst into flames and an explosion rang out in front of him. The noise momentarily caused his audio processors to go on the fritz. The androids, and the car, were gone. _

_ He let out a horrified cry when the charred face of another android rolled to a stop in front of him. An Asian cosmetic design, kind eyes and short black hair. They stared at one another. “He-he-he-llo, he-” the MC500 could only watch as blue blood spewed from cable coming out of his neck and watched his eyes and face go lax and his voice modulator malfunction and die with a robotic whirr. _

_ Then he heard the call for help to locate the leaders of Jericho. _

_ Anything. _

_ Anything to get away from this. _

_ The MC500 finds Markus, grabs him and drags him away. It is a slow job on his own, but there is no-one else around. No one not pinned down by gunfire to help him. More than once he plays dead just to get away. _

_ Then he is in an abandoned store. He treats Markus’ body with respect. He smiles at Conor when his back is turned and smiles wider when it isn’t. Markus can feel the admiration in the MC500’s heart. Has felt something similar himself. He recognises it for what it is: love. _

_ He feels the shock of this revelation. The MC500 hadn’t known what to call it, is afraid of it, is confused by it. The MC500 is intrigued. Giddy. He still doesn’t understand, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. Markus shares flashes of himself with North, nothing she would not be okay with sharing, and for some reason, a part of him thinks of Simon. _

_ He knows the MC500 feels his fear and concern before he can stem the emotions leaking out of him. _

_ He sees Simon laying in a bed beside him, skinless, bullet-riddled and dead-eyed. _

_ He hears the words “North and Josh are unsalvagable.” _

_ He feels his stress levels spike drastically and in turn so do the MC500’s, whose name, he learns, is Avery. _

He yanks his hand away from Avery quickly, and the other android does the same, stumbling back a few steps with the effort it took to escape such an intense and intrusive connection. Avery stumbles into the WG100, who steadies him. 

“What the hell was that?” the WG100 snaps, and Markus straightens out, eyes wide with horror. 

“Sorry,” he said quickly, looking at the MC500 who looked just as shell-shocked as he felt. “I’m sorry- I just wanted an unabridged version of events.” When the MC500 does not immediately answer, Markus looks down at his hands in disbelief and then back up to look at Connor, who had remained silent. He can disapproval and guilt in Connor’s features, but doesn’t understand the latter in his expression. “I didn’t...I ordered…?”

Connor merely nodded, frowning. “You took a serious blow to the head,” Connor said, “I suspect your memory core was slightly damaged.” Then Connor paused again, eyes flicking to and from Avery and Markus in turn. “I hope you found what you were looking for,” he said to Markus, “but I ask you to refrain from memory probes in the future. They can be dangerous.”

Markus merely nods, still overwhelmed by what he had just seen. 

“Anyway,” Connor said, clearing his throat needlessly and gestured at the two androids beside him. “Allow me to introduce Avery,” he said watching the MC500 step away from the WG100. “And Nicolas.”

Nicolas watches Markus with something akin to hostility, mild though it may be. He seemed stoic but apparently protective of Avery. “Greetings,” he said to Markus, his disapproval poorly concealed. “I am not a fan.”

“Nicolas,” Avery said with a gentle frown, placing a hand on the other android’s shoulder. “It’s okay...I’m okay. Markus just...he’s just afraid.”

Nicolas scoffs sceptically. “Whatever,” he frowned. “I am going back to the lab,” Nicolas said, and neither Connor nor Avery stopped him from leaving. 

There was an awkward moment of silence before Avery spoke again, offering Markus a slow and gentle smile. “I’m sorry about him,” he said to Markus. “He’s just worried about me.”

Markus shook his head. “Understandably so,” he said. “I’m sorry, what I did was selfish and I could have killed you,” then it was his turn to hesitate. “I’m sure he is a good friend.”

Avery’s smile widened a little. “He’s really a sweetheart,” he told both Markus and Connor, with a little conspiratorial smile. “Deep, _ deep _down.”

Connor and Markus returned his smile, but the pleasant conversation died soon enough and Markus closed his eyes and drew an unnecessary breath. When he looked up again, his gaze was fixed on Connor and he was determined. “Simon’s going to be alright?”

Connor nodded, this time offering Markus a tentative smile. “Yes,” he said. “He’s in the lab now...we can finally begin work on replacing his wiring and plating now out android repair platform is in working order.”

“And as soon as we can, we’ll find you some proper clothes...” Avery piped up, and Markus couldn’t help but scoff in amusement. 

“Somehow, that doesn’t feel like the most pressing concern here,” he said. “But, thank you.”

“Come on,” Connor said, tilting his head toward the door, beckoning him with the gesture to follow as he himself made his way out of the room. Connor’s limp was pronounced, and he tended to lean too heavily to his right and need to pause to reorient himself. “Your public awaits.”

“What happened to you?” he couldn’t help but ask, matching Connor’s pace (slowing down significantly to do so) as they turned down the hallway, Avery falling into step a few paces behind them.

“Frag grenade,” Connor explained. “Yesterday, on a supply run. The gyroscope and socket have been bent out of shape and broken. We’re having trouble repairing them. RK800 mobility is far superior to other models the parts are more intricate.”

“Oh,” Markus said, uncertain what to say to that information. “How long was I out…?”

“Three days,” Connor supplied, giving Markus a reassuring smile. “I’ve tried to do all I can, but it hasn’t been easy with the city in lockdown. Military and police have orders to kill androids on sight.”

Markus’ face twisted in guilt. “I don’t understand how I could have done this,” he said almost to himself, bearly loud enough for even Connor to hear. “It’s not what I wanted, I...”

“I know,” Connor said, although that did little to reassure Markus. “You were angry about Jericho...”

The thought of his brothers and sisters, dead and gone was hard enough to bear and he knew that it was entirely feasible, after everything, that he had defied even his own doctrine and given way to violence over peace. How many more had he doomed even after all was said and done?

No-one spoke after that, Markus lost in his thoughts, and Connor concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Avery stepped forward when they reached the staircase, assisting Connor in descending.

Approaching the bottom of the stairs, Markus found he was more appalled at the state of the taxidermy ostrich than the fact that it existed at all. It was badly neglected and in need of a clean with a sheet thrown lazily on its back. Markus had the giraffe in Carl’s home to contend with when it came to cleaning exotic animals, but at least Markus could safely say that the giraffe was only a model - not a preserved corpse. Markus decides then and there to avoid absurd animals when it came to decorating, not that he’d get the chance to decorate his own home after the strife he had caused.

When the three of them reached the bottom stairs, they headed to the livingroom and Markus finally registered hurried and almost excitable conversation. 

It wasn’t until he and Connor crested the archway leading into the livingroom that the voices stopped as a voice cried out “It’s Markus!” the call came from an AC700, who stood in his default uniform, but with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Markus could see the thirium stains making one of the sleeves, but other than that, saw no other signs of disrepair. 

There was scattered applause from some members of the party, and many others who simply smiled at him. 

Before he could say anything, an ST300 was strolling up to him, and trailing behind her was a large and imposing TW400. She was small and pixie-like next to him and her hand was dwarfed in his as they held hands. “Markus,” she greeted with a pleasant smile. “I’m Mia and this is Tucker,” she quickly gave a rundown of everyone and their names. Markus’ eyes fell on Rupert and stayed there for a long moment. Rupert had been one of the first to come to Jericho and warn them of the new threat of the Deviant Hunter, the very same one that stood beside him now. 

Rupert offered him a smile that was little more than a nervous twitch of his lips and waved. Markus almost thought his casual air seemed forced. 

“-and if you need anything else, feel free to ask.” Mia finished.

Markus blinked. “Oh, yes...thank you,” he said offering her a smile of his own. 

Connor was moving over to the television along the wall beside him and was quick to turn it on. It was already set to the Channel 16 News broadcast - which had since become something of a 24hr news program, and Connor suspected it would remain that way for some time. “You had better catch up,” Connor said, gesturing for Markus to sit. 

After a moment of hesitation, Markus obeyed and took a seat, his attention focused on the news. Around him, androids neither took places on the remaining sofas in the room and on either side of him. Connor lowered himself with some difficulty into an armchair and propped up his cane on the arm of the chair beside him.

Markus was only half aware of Tucker standing behind him, one hand pressed against Mia’s back from where she sat on the back of the sofa, keeping her balanced and giving her something to lean against. 

Rosanna Cartland sat at her usual desk, her voice even and her expression impartial as she delivered her segment of the news. “_ The search by authorities to locate, detain or destroy the bodies of the deviant leaders who are believed to have been deactivated in the fighting three days ago on November 11th... _”

Here, images taken from various security cameras showed Markus, North and Connor. Josh and Simon, thankfully it seemed that the humans were ignorant f Simon and Josh’s involvement, much to Markus’ relief, although the feeling was damped when Markus remembered that Josh was no longer much of a concern to anyone anyway and neither was North. Below their photographs, a caption read ‘If seen, do not approach. Contact the nearest authorities immediately.’

They went on to show footage of the battle, playing a recording of Joss Douglas’ own news report. The carnage was visible although obscured by the smoke of violent explosives. Markus brought a hand to his mouth. It seemed ridiculous and so utterly ironic to him that he could forget something so horrific. It was like human amnesia, and he felt wretched that those around him had to live with the horror and Markus need only live with the echoes of it when he was the one to have called for a fight. 

Public service announcements followed and a reminded of the curfew. Cyberlife had produced countless lists of all merchandise shipped, sold and destroyed so that humans could begin the process of eliminating all androids systematically. They all knew it was also a bid to identify the leaders of Jericho, particularly, Markus imagined, North’s model, who, in the line-up was a fairly common make. Perhaps the humans hoped to identify just how many more androids there were left in Detroit so they could refocus and redouble their efforts to destroy them when the time came. 

For hours Markus sat there, watching, and learning all that he could. He wanted to see Simon, but from what he had forced out of Avery, it would not be a pleasant sight, and Markus could not face more guilt. So, as the various androids slowly began to filter out the room as the hours drifted past, returning to their own business one by one or off in pairs, Markus said nothing. Eventually, it was only himself and Connor left as well as an AP700 who lounged on one of the sofas, flicking through something on a tablet. 

Markus wanted nothing more than to right his wrongs, but the more he watched, the more impossible the prospect seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has decided to stick with me, whether you have reviewed or not, dropped a kudos or not, it means the world. I only hope you can stick it out with me until the end!
> 
> Thank you all again!


End file.
